


The Last Repentant

by spnsmile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bible, Bible Quotes, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel and Dean Winchester are Saps, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel is Protective of Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Comfort, Dark Fantasy, Dean Winchester Prays to Castiel, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020 (Supernatural), DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel Reverse Bang | Dean/Cas Reverse Bang (Supernatural), Dorks in Love, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Evil, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Healthy Relationships, Heavy Angst, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), Hurt Dean Winchester, Injury, Intense, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Monsters, POV Dean Winchester, Pain, Post-Purgatory (Supernatural), Prayer, Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Dean Winchester, Purgatory, Romantic Fluff, Thriller, True Love, Violence, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Who will have mercy on his soul?The first time they landed in Purgatory, Dean was forced to leave the angel behind, oblivious to the many things that happened until Castiel escaped with the help of Heaven. Unknown to them are the Shadows lingering in the Forsaken Land, the tortured Souls that haunted the angel, only to be forgotten when Heaven attempted Castiel’s reform. Years later they dived back in Monster land with a mission to end the greatest manipulator, but with bond strained and brotherhood severed, how will Dean and Castiel reconcile? Especially when Dean wakes up to find the angel taken away by the Leviathans. There has to be something to save them before the tortured souls win another one in their number.Injured and beaten, Dean remembers friendly advice inside a confessional a long time ago.Bless me father…?Nope.A prayer.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 15
Kudos: 48
Collections: Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Prologue: Of Bibles and Banters

**Author's Note:**

> Written from the awesome art prompt by Kweenratmother on DCRB 2020! Her link profile is on the banner and of course give her love! She's awesome artist!
> 
> It's time to call the muses over Dean's Purgatory Prayer! 
> 
> Canondivergent with Prologue giving a little background as introduction to the Forgotten Souls in Purgatory (which is Bible canon with Dean and Cas moment on the get-go), tiny Season 10x16 Confessional reference^^
> 
> The rest picks up in Purgatory, directly when Dean wakes up to find Cas taken by the Leviathan so really this is for season 15 canon goers with stamp additions of dealing with dark creatures, we’re sorry^^. 
> 
> The Prayer will be dissected, where Dean is coming from and how Repentance plays to the sinful. But Dean in the original prayer is here and that’s all we need to know. Poor Dean. Poor Cas. But this is a happy, fluffy, fic in the end with a great capture of art by Kweenratmother (look at the colors goooo!)
> 
> Enjoy the angst and drama and Dean—ahh…. Good luck!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now I shall sing the second kingdom
> 
> There where the soul of man is cleansed,
> 
> Made worthy to ascend to Heaven
> 
> -Purgatorio, Dante Alighieri

[ ](https://kweenratmother.tumblr.com/post/612528542887067648/ayyyy-folks-heres-my-half-of-the-deancas-reverse?fbclid=IwAR1T7VZVfM2SjAzg_ZL7NtpEXiu1Cf8AKv_7vF7K-I6DazC0sWZ0CxymOqg)

_Five years ago…_

It began with seven words.

“ _Bless me father, for I have sinned…”_

The earth did not crack, oceans did not break, volcanoes did not erupt and no sign of end-of-world thunder claps covered the sky so Dean thinks it’s okay with utmost relief. His soul is still intact in his body inside that tiny boot so that’s a plus.

“So uhh…”

It was just for a case, three suicides that didn’t look like one unless the victims all had Japanese Hara-kiri with a penchant for candlesticks as minor course, so he and Sam agreed to rush over Massachusetts. This was aptly followed with the drill of research and interrogation over local murders that fall under the Winchester’s street. 

Then there’s Father Delaney, the local clergy. Dean had no qualms dealing with the faithful, doesn’t bother telling them about the _Supernatural_ because people are sensitive to what you shove down their foundation, in here just about the word _faith._

Until he got one step in the confessional and _actually confessing_ more than he should.

Sam looked at him weird when he stepped out minutes later but Dean sure learned one thing— you don’t believe em’ when they tell you priests are no good therapist. Father Delaney gave him a talisman of new knowledge, something that reminded him when you get cornered, you blast the wall.

This from an unlikely friend who got an ear to listen. Maybe that’s what Dean needed today, not the friend part— _all his friends just die_ —but a fresh view on his problem because the priest certainly has some compelling advice:

_“Learning there’s more to the universe than your tiny world can be a frightening discovery.”_

Still, Dean knew he said some things in there that uh... may have been a little... overkill in its honesty especially the, having new relationships part—a _confessional is a dangerous place—_ but with the Mark of Cain still latched on his skin, he gotta shove down his little needs. Priority number one is to find a way to get rid of it and if anyone’s gonna do that—it’s gonna be himself. It starts by looking at a different _universe._

So here he is, hours later, mulling over a specific book, a title he never thought he’d be reading after all the crap he’s gone through with his comedic life. One exchange with a priest and here he sits _with the Bible,_ an irony on things because his best friend is an angel, right? But Cas isn’t around yet, busy trying to save the world right after he got his grace back, still wingless, but determined. The little soldier in Dean is so proud of the angel, but sometimes he just wished Cas would stay with him in the Bunker just to accompany him. But yeah, couldn’t blame the angel for finding other more worthwhile things to do than humoring Dean. Backtracking on his thoughts, Dean shakes his head and drowned himself with a bottle of beer and the apple of knowledge—scanning pages after pages looking for a specific name—

_Cain._

A beat of the ticking clock and rustle of pages and papercuts later, he pours all attention and brain in trying to understand the meaning behind some archaic use of words coming from the _Bible_. 

And still feeling funny between scared and lonely.

It’s not uncommon to find him alone in the Bunker these days, being good and totally staying out of trouble, out of Sam’s room while his brother… well, his brother ran errands secret errand around and still find time to watch nerdy _French_ mime movies, which Dean hopefully has mime kissing involved for Sam’s benefit. So, that night, he benches himself in the Bunker while Sam went to his silent movies. But Dean’s only human and the Bunker is so very quiet with lamps on the corners dimly lit, the ventilators working like lullabies and after five hours of fruitful digging with the Bible now joined with two more books, Dean begins to nod off.

_The smell of blood is instantaneous, followed by a silhouette of a man with a shaped blade on his hand. Dean knows him of course. Doesn’t make seeing him again less terrifying. It doesn’t make breathing any easy._

Must be some time when he felt a touch his shoulder, rousing him from his slumber.

“Dean?”

Dean sharply looks over his shoulder eyes incredibly bright, his face damp from perspiration. He sees an outline of tan khaki—no, trench coat—and a pair of deep blue eyes followed—replacing the red that haunted his dreams no matter how short. Dean lets out a sigh of relief when he recognizes the squinting eyes warily watching him.

“Cas?” 

Dean takes in the appearance—of the drowning color of sea blue— like the beach he's dreamed— warm and sunbeam. Alright, maybe he's still dreaming and this time it's good. He likes blue.

The hunter blinks several times when a face pops up there, then inhales quietly when he sees Castiel, revered and majestic in his glowing form. Always the guy to give him the warm and fuzzy feeling and smells like fresh grass, this angel. If that didn’t snap him back to the world of the living, he doesn’t know what else could.

Straightening from his slumped position on the table, the hunter looks around, seeing the familiar library, then palms his sweaty face and blinking his heavy eyes. The smell of blood was gone, but his eyes still fall on the Mark of Cain hidden under his sleeves, his heart erratic and wouldn’t follow his breathing pattern.

_He is in the Bunker, he tells himself, not somewhere where the ground is red, where Cain killed his brother… terrible red, just red… blood…._

In the silence where Dean shivers and licks his dried lips, he sees his friend move from his peripheral to round on the table and face him, worry etched on his face. The angel got his whole attention when he sits down face to face and Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the comforting blues even if he wanted to because the angel or not, he knows this guy is real. _Prayed this guy is real._

_What did the priest tell him about prayers?_

“Are you okay? Did you have… a nightmare?” Castiel leans forward, both elbows pressing hard on the wood. Dean opens his mouth not knowing where to begin, his jaw working like a fish out of water. It must be awful, what Castiel is seeing since the upset look never disappeared on his face.

Dean wanted to tell him many things all at once, so many kinds of stuff he wanted to unload and yet… his gut tells him it’s pathetic to come crawling at the guy who barely had a moment for himself. He knew Cas had been worried about him, knew Cas’ absence is because of the Mark, turning stones to find a way to remove it even when Dean’s already resigned himself to it.

He could tell Cas to just _stay,_ but that’s already selfish. If he was going to die anyway, why lay foundations to make it more complicated? That’s why new relationships can’t work for him, whatever he told the priest.

“Dean.” The huge round eyes penetrate his skull. Cas still knows how to make it meaningful like a tug on some string, a connection he and Dean will always have. Some connection Dean is still clinging to whatever he tells himself, he just couldn’t let go. Not Cas.

“I need a drink.” Dean decides finally, standing up and hesitating a little. He locks eyes with the angel who remained seated and staring at him, before nodding and accompanying him to the kitchen much to the hunter’s gratefulness. They walk in silence, Castiel like his shadow watching over him.

Cas followed his every movement once they got into the silent kitchen. The angel opted to lean on the table with arms crossed while Dean drinks quietly by the sink. He checks his watch once his thirst is quenched, then he turns to face Castile who lifts his chin up and surveys him with another anxious look.

Dean disarms him easily by smiling.

“Did you hear me pray to you? You heard me, didn’t you?”

“I—what?” confusion covered the deadpanned face, “I did not hear any prayer—did you call my name?” he tilts his head and if Dean doesn’t admit this apple face is his favorite entertainment, he’d be burning in hell. Maybe he should for making the angel look so guilty.

“I’m kidding, geez. I’m Dean Winchester, nice to meet you.”

“I… I’m Castiel. But we have met, _Dean, are you okay_?” Cas looks even more confused now. Whatever is making Castiel panic—because he is panicked—only uplifts Dean’s spirit. The danger passed, the straining ropes are gone and Castiel is with him, nothing can go wrong in the world.

“Sit down, buddy, before you whiplash the pretty neck.” Dean chuckles, now fully awake. He walks to the fridge feeling like a new man. He takes two can of beer, meets the angel’s eyes and pointed at the table. Following his cue, Castiel sits down in resignation, still watching Dean with words obviously buzzing around his pretty head on that pretty shoulder and just about everything that makes him beautiful.

Dean clears his throat and hands Castiel the beer who takes it with a small thanks. The meaningful glare he gave the hunter doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Got something in your mind? Where have you been yourself, Mr. Free guy? Having fun driving around?”

“No. I miss my wings a lot.”

Oh.

“Where do you stay these days?”

“Motels, apartment, my car. The rent sometimes is incredibly high, I rather stay in the car. The neckstiff isn’t as bad as when I was a human but it does pay to have a human background now that I think about it. It makes understanding humans even easier, unlike what my brothers, or me, before the fall. It’s like what you said, Dean. Baby steps.”

“Yeah, stop giving yourself a hard time about that, Cas. And ‘neckstiffs’ are fine. Any ‘stiff’ is fine.” Dean chuckles again with gladness swelling around his chest, “You’re better off moving forward than back. Two at a time will do you good now. You done any hunt?”

Castiel nods thoughtfully.

“Actually, yes, but they are nothing compared to what I can annihilate before. Working as a sham leader of the angels has both its advantage and disadvantages, but I figured working as just _my_ works too. I am learning to cope and let go, like what you taught me. I am not the type to stop surviving.”

“Good to hear.” Sometimes Dean wants to ask him to just stay, sometimes he wants to raise he’d want to go with him, but being without his wings already, Dean doesn’t have the heart to chain the angel to himself. Can’t stop Cas from going so the least he can do is enjoy it when his best friend stays. Dean will smack Sam if he labels this again as him ‘missing’ his angel. Maybe he does. Who gives a damn except him?

Castiel narrows his eyes. “Don’t change the subject, Dean. Stop making fun of me when things are dire, serious when your life is on the line. And we need to talk about your nightmare just now.” 

“What do you talk about nightmares? Ever had one?” Dean crosses his arm, quirking both eyebrows up, seeing the challenge in the angel’s eyes when he juts his chin forward. An obvious invitation to a brewing disagreement, except Dean got other things in his mind.

“We have other stuff we can talk about than how the Undertaker ripped my stick out— like this, here—” from under his arm he takes out the book he brought with him. “I read this damn thing in a go and y’know what I learned? What a wacky storyteller can do when his favorite past time is writing fanfictions out of the Bible.”

Dean slams two books in front of the angel who reads the title by tilting his head again. It’s unusually satisfying to see the angel try to read the books without pivoting it for his own benefit so taking initiative, the hunter obligingly turns them to face the angel. Castiel frowns when he gets a better look, then gives Dean a long, suffering look.

“You shouldn’t bring books in the kitchen— you know how Sam feels about you ruining important collections,” Cas says primly when he straightens his back, casting a look down the title of the book again with a glint of curiosity slowly forming behind his blue eyes.

“Oh, I know how he feels about most things,” Dean quirks his eyebrows meaningfully with an impossibly wide smile plastered on his face, “but do I care? Naw. Now, I’m glad you came back, I was planning to call you in the morning, but hey, a profound bond is better than any hotline I know and bonding over book ain’t so bad. You in?”

Cas gives him a skeptical look. “You should be resting in your bed, Dean.”

“Who can rest when I found this? C’mon, Cas, this is your backyard, I need all the help in the lawn. Please? This might help me with the Mark.” 

The angel takes his time to respond, eyeing Dean—x-raying Dean because he can, and takes pleasure in it if Dean is honest. Castiel quietly clasps both hands on the table as Dean waits for his verdict. 

“Fine.”

“Good.” he gets up from his chair and squeezes beside the angel who grumpily scoots over, but his face relaxes once Dean shuffles closer with shoulders bumping.

“Why are you reading this anyway?” he asks.

“Got someone tipping me I shouldn’t be looking for answers in one universe, so I figured if I study the Bible— I said _study and not read—_ I could figure out how to get rid of the Mark.”

“Um, okay.” Castiel sighs in exasperation but he doesn’t contradict Dean. 

“You Bible campers only told me about how Cain got this from killing his brother, right? Like god wanted him to do penance so he cursed him not to die. But as I recall reading from uh…Genesis 4:15— _‘He engraved a letter of His name onto Cain’s forehead’.”_

He looks up expectantly at Cas, only to find the angel with a small smile. 

“You read the Bible.”

Dean groans, undeterred at the angel’s amusement, leaning closer while Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not the smart one in the family, I get it—”

“Dean.” Castiel’s voice, though still calm, reverberates in the whole kitchen like the angel just flapped his wings, making the lamp light quiver, and for Dean to sit still feeling a tinge of electrical power crawling in the air. He glances back at the source of power, wide-eyed. 

Castiel holds his gaze firmly. Dean forgets how his best friend is an angel sometimes.

“Cas, don’t start sugar-coating me now—”

The angel shakes his head, expression inviting no objections.

“I would rather that you’re not too hard on yourself. You don’t know how smart you are… how kind and good and…” Cas voice trails, but the effect is in his eyes, much more his meaning. Dean breathes out, wondering why lamps are turning on and off in waves which is not normal if it involves your stomach. Only butterflies should be there and the butterflies are hungry.

Dean blinks at the angry angel several times with his cheeks flushing. Castiel always does that. Look at him deeply with meaning to pull away all the ugly, determined only to see the good. Dean doesn’t see that. But Castiel always makes him feel like he’s the most important beings like there’s no other he will give the same attention. Like Dean is his everything.

It makes Dean smile. Embarrassed, he pulled the plug and looked away.

“Shut up and c’mon, help me out here.” “Look, I need an expert about this book—and I don’t mean only cuz Metatron basically hijacked your head with mind popping literature, but cause you’re angelly—” 

“Angelly…” Cas tastes the word in his mouth with a little squint. “Okay, I get it. But what does it have to do with the Divine Comedy?”

“First of all, it’s not here to mock you.” Dean chuckles, tapping the old leathered bound title to which the angel wrinkles his nose upon getting the man’s meaning. The hunter reaches for the book and raised it between them. “But I gotta say, what I found will blow your mind away. Unless of course, you already know—"

“If I know of anything that can remove the Mark from you, do you really think I would not rip heaven and earth for it?”

And it’s true. Dean has saved two hours reading _Purgatorio,_ the second book of Dante Alighieri’s trilogy. After the long hours spent, Dean gets to the conclusion that Dante may not have been a human.

“See, this is where we brain, Cas.” Dean snatches the book in all seriousness and points one finger up in a sign of lecture, “You gotta level with me here, my brain will soon short circuit if you don’t. Dante’s Purgatory—ring any angel’s harp?” Castiel nods curtly, “Good, now work with me—god wanted Cain to repent, right? For killing his brother?”

 _“Where is my brother.”_ Cas muses with a lost look in his eyes, “ _Am I my brother’s keeper?”_

“Right.” Dean stares, not good staring so he goes on, “So he placed him under a curse-- he put the Mark on his body as a sign of divine protection so he doesn’t die? Fucking irony of tryin’ to live when you’re better off dead.”

Castiel glares at him and Dean nods to appease him. “I get it, man. But Cain was given the Mark so he’d live long to repent for his sins, right?”

“Yes. It’s an atonement necessarily for his cleansing.” Castiel agreed. 

Something flickers in Dean and the excitement pooling at the pit of his stomach hikes up. He was hoping Castiel would say that. _Cleansing._ He takes a moment to raise the book between them again, his green eyes glinting more meaningfully than before

 _Purgatorio_ reflects on the blue eyes as Cas gazes at it, then tilts his head to look at Dean.

“Well, isn’t Purgatory basically the land of repentance? It’s where god threw all the monsters of Eve, but in the Bible, it’s a place where the souls go to for expiatory purification. _Cleansing,_ Cas _.”_

“Which he didn’t want for Cain, that’s why he has the Mark.” Castiel points out, following the hunter’s train of thought to which Dean is glad. “Cain can’t die, Dean. His soul can never be cleansed.”

“Until I came along, yeah got the message. He can’t, but that doesn’t nullify what God wanted for him was punishment over repentance. Maybe Cain didn’t regret it wholly so his soul wasn’t taken? Who says he ain’t there after all?

Cas frowns deeper looking uncomfortable. 

“We’ve been to Purgatory. _Stayed there a year._ There’s no such thing as another soul there—you’re the only human soul I sensed, Dean. No man apart from you has ever come out of hell, purgatory or heaven and tell the story so if anything, you should know better than the author hiding behind a character’s name.”

“You talk like you know him?” Dean straightens his shoulders, ogling at the angel.

“I may have met him.” Castiel says slowly, eyes not meeting Dean’s.

“I knew it. He’s not human, huh? This Dante?” He grins when Castiel shuts his pretty lips, cause yeah, they are, making him look like a toddler who’d gotten scolded over reaching inside the forbidden cookie jar.

“I still don’t understand what this has to do with anything _Mark_ related, Dean. How does this help you?” 

“We’re getting there if you just zip it and listen.” Dean flips open the Bible and begins turning pages. “Okay, going back to Cain—I’m not sure if you’ve memorized the Bible—”

_“All angels have a general knowledge of all that is Divine, from Nature Law, Prophecy—”_

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, stop showing off. Here.” He points at a particular page, their eyes reading the lines together, “Genesis 4:14, _But the Lord answered ‘No, if anyone kills you, seven lives will be taken in revenge.”_ He looks Castiel straight in the eyes.

“God is not merciful to the First Sinners, I can give you that,” Castiel affirms wryly. 

“Tell me something I don’t know, but can we agree expectations and realities just clashed with your Purgatory’s prison hall of Leviathans and all sorts of monsters. But let’s talk about the all over guy moving across realm after he died, this Dante?”

“A very catchy name given by a very enthusiastic author.” Castiel offers drily.

“Yeah? Well, listen to this— _seven times he carved the letter ‘P’ on my brow with the point of his sword, and he said, ‘Cleanse away these wounds when you are within.’”_ Dean pauses for awaited effect. Castiel stays silent so Dean jabs a finger on the two books. “He was Marked, Cas! Dante was Marked and _seven times!_ Who else has the same number when giving conditions on a cursed Mark, huh? _Cain!”_ Dean breathes out, brain buzzing, “This book is a reference to Cain too! He’s Dante in the story! Meant to be! And you know how this Divine Comedy ended? Dante managed to remove the Mark by going through the purification from the _Seven Deadly sins_ crap! He removed his _Mark_ doing that before he was released! Don’t you get it!?”

Castiel is silent again, and it’s fine because it meant the angel is thinking too. After a moment, he arches an eyebrow. “Seven has always been considered a mystic number even in the celestial world, Dean. It contains special powers behind the utterance and um… there’s a reason why six is afraid of it.”

Dean shuts his eyes and curses a little. But he’s learned to be patient.

“Cas— you’re not taking me seriously. This Dante dude knows the existence of the Mark of Cain! What am I saying— _of course, he does if he can write the details like that!_ Why else would he portray Purgatory and Dante’s Mark as he journeys to purification? It smashes closely with the Mark of Cain—and even if it doesn’t, you gotta believe how come this Purgatorio book contains a specific location Benny once told me—this _Mount Purgatory_!”

It has the effect Dean is looking for. Castiel visibly stiffens and if Dean doesn’t know better judging by the way his nose flare and his eyes sparks fiercely, he would be convinced he just triggered the angel. He watches as Cas pauses with the tension in his sagging shoulders gone. It took a moment for the angel to process before he says quite drily, “Of course they do. Dante Alighieri was _Cain,_ Dean.”

That jolts Dean back. _“What?”_

To which Castiel sighs, followed by a long stretching silence as the angel traces his fingers on the leather bind, his sapphire seeing more than just the book, but a past only a hundred-year-old being like him can remember. 

“In his long life, traces of Cain can be found throughout history… the Divine Comedy is his masterpiece, but he has to renounce the claim since he never died so Dante Alighieri became part of a nation’s story. But, all the content of the book is a pure mockery to what God had done. Cain wanted to portray penitence in a way where he believed he could be saved. But he was never able to enter Purgatory…even if he did, he wouldn’t find the mountain. The same way you never did.”

Dean frowns. “What… you mean, the mountain only shows itself to selected people?”

Castiel drops his eyes. “It’s a powerful mountain, Dean. God made it.”

Silence fell at the two. Dean slumps back on his chair and in deep thoughts. He is disturbed when Castile puts the book quietly down the table and held his gaze. “Dean. By any chance, do you have any plan of sneaking back to this wasteland?”

The tone sent chills in the hunter’s body, but it’s the remark that gets him flustered.

“What— _no!”_

“Dean, you wouldn’t be able to find it even if you go there.” Castiel’s voice is full of warning. Dean easily sees him advancing forward threateningly, and if there’s one enemy Dean never ever wants—it’s this son of a bitch who always gets his way because of being too goddamn good at fighting and _tenacious as hell._

But Dean doesn’t backdown easy either. 

“Cas, if there’s a way to remove this damn Mark, you know I’ll go there.”

“Going there is one thing, but finding the mountain is another.” Cas questions and it’s a wonder why they are not exploding when they are mere inches from each other, “And judging by your line of thought, you wanted to try this Mount Purgatory’s cleansing—"

“So, you agree with me that there’s Mount Purgatory? Benny’s always warned about it, but we never come around to see it. I got curious many times, but you know what? I didn’t let it get to me because I had a mission and that was to find you. But right now, if there’s any chance— a single ray of hope to get rid of this Mark—it’s that dark mountain! I don’t care what I find there be them gods or monsters or shadows, I—” he stops not because of fear at the way Castiel is looking at him, but at how the angel suddenly turns pale.

“Cas?” 

Castiel doesn’t respond. He stops dead like a statue, frozen in time. His eyes widen at something only he can see and it gets Dean scooting closer to him and grab his shoulder. He shakes the angel “Cas!”

With a snap, the angel blinks back, his blue eyes flickering with dread.

“There were shadows…” he whispers, his voice weak and trembling. Dean forgets about everything that instant. Cas doesn’t look like himself. “What shadow?”

Dean had seen terror in Cas before, but nothing like this. Pure and undiluted fear cover his dilated eyes. But he looks at Dean—finally looks at Dean like he can see him again. Dean sighs deeply, hands gripping the angel’s shoulder tight.

“Hey…” Dean would have asked more, except Castiel, who’s skin is milky white, turned even paler.

“What…” Cas’ voice trails away. 

“Cas? You okay?” the terror lingering inside the angel’s eyes didn’t come unnoticed to the hunter. Concerned, Dean presses closer to the angel, gripping Cas’ hand and making small circles as he rubs his thumb on his cold skin.

“I’m sorry… I just…”

“What happened back there? It looked like you were having a flashback.” Dean grips his hand looking worried, “What is it, Cas?”

Castiel takes his moment to look up at him, then slowly, Dean watches as the side of his eyes crinkle, blue eyes peering at him from the cracks into narrow slits. “I… I just saw… I think a distorted memory.”

“Distorted?”

“I’m not sure… something about shadows in mountains…” Castiel closes his eyes, a weak hand reached up on Dean’s elbows. “What was that…”

“I’d like to ask the same thing, hey!” he takes the angel’s other shoulder as both a support to the sagging shoulders and a firm grip so Cas steadies on the chair. After a moment, he catches the blue eyes looking at him tiredly. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Dean. It’s like there’s something I have to remember about it… about Purgatory…” Castiel is still pale and the way he shakes his head looks painful. “I don’t know… I don’t remember… it’s all vague…” 

Dean’s eyes widened. “What?” It feels like déjà vu. “Is it like a cover memory? Tampered?”

“Huh?” Castiel glances at him with a squint. "What are you..."

“Cas— our memories of Purgatory—you told me before—we uh, I don’t know how to psychoanalyze it—but I remembered things differently. You said so...”

"You were traumatized."

"And so were you!" He's an ass, the biggest ass for not checking. Cas returned from Purgatory and Dean knew something was off. Things happen all at once, things he couldn’t stop, feelings he doesn’t get and betrayal of his best friend to top it all. Cas running away with the tablet. Pain takes Dean by surprise at the memory. Cas was so confused then. But then... did something else happen...?

Dean shakes his head, eyes meaningfully bright. He sees pain and hurt on Castiel, and a tiny tinge of loss. Dammit, what happened to Cas when he left him back there?

Castiel falls forward without warning, like a ragdoll, he pitches forward but Dean is there to catch him. Panic-stricken, he takes the angel’s weight, frantically trying to shake him. Is this… is this some angel thing?

“Hey…” he wraps Cas in his arms whose head thumps down his chest weakly. There are few things that can scare Dean in his lifetime. This? This is definitely one of them. “Cas? Cas, what’s happening? Is this some kind of divine punishment? _Is anyone tryin to control your head again?”_

“Why you’re asking me of this, Dean?” Castiel gingerly tries to get up from Dean’s chest, attempting to sit right but he sags down even more.

"Cas!" Dean pats the angel on the cheek. “Dammit, stop making me worry!”

There’s silence.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel inhales. His breath tickles the skin of Dean’s neck but he doesn’t move. Refused to move. The hunter tries to lean away to peer in his eyes, but Castiel’s body won’t budge.

“Are you okay now?”

“I will be.”

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” Castiel sighs. “It’s like zapping in and out of my body… my grace… it’s… trying to remember something I can’t is painful because it’s not my memory.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I don’t know… but Dean…this Mount Purgatory…I think I’ve been there.”

Dean blinks. “But you’re an angel—”

He doesn’t get a response from the distracted angel who finally pulls up, face still pale, his dark hair all over places. Dean itches to press his palm on them but restrained himself given how Cas looks so forlorn. “You okay?”

“No. I… I don’t know why but… I wish to never go back there again, Dean. Something happened there… I can’t… let’s not talk about this, please…”

Dean studies his friend. Apart from the mysterious return of his best friend before, answered by the interference of Heaven, he never really had any idea what happened to Cas months after he left. It’s something he’s sure he needed to be concerned, but the angel looking up at him solemnly, like Dean is tearing his heart when he says, “Please, Dean, don’t go there. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Well, that’s that.

Dean holds his breath and looks down the book to its shelf and cancels his appointment with Crowley to give him access at the backdoor of hell leading to Purgatory. 

That’s how Castiel’s disturbed face convinced him. He could tell something happened, but what’s the point if Cas doesn’t even remember? He still feels guilty even if it was Castiel’s own volition to stay in Purgatory...he thought it was over but… all those months, what happened to Cas?

That’s not the case for the hunter now though. He’d never stake Cas’ life again, not in million years. So, Purgatory never became an option again. Dean lets go of the plan eventually with relief because he never wanted to go back to Purgatory in his lifetime.

Not again.


	2. Of Personal Infernos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where thou shalt hear the desperate lamentations
> 
> Shalt see the ancient spirits disconsolate,
> 
> Who cry out each one for the second death?
> 
> -Inferno, Dante Alighieri 

Dean’s steps are heavy and aimless, a drifter amidst the endless gray and vague terrain of the forgotten land forsaken by the Creator. The ashen sky permits the heavy gloom clawing inside his heart as he trudges on the muddy patch with a lump stuck in his throat.

This? This isn’t Purgatory.

This is _Hell_ — his own personal hell with its freezing air and cold mountains and dark forests, this gotta be the pit. Dean’s back there except they’re making fun of him. _This is hell._

He doesn’t complain of the drudgery, he doesn’t mind the chill in the atmosphere. He minds that he’s now alone, having recently lost a loyal companion who did nothing but to save him. Now he doesn’t even know how to return the favor. Not when he doesn’t know where to begin. 

One thing echoes in his mind— _Cas is in danger._

Those Leviathans want him as a gift to this monster mother of all—Cas is in danger.

Dread sinks deeper on his every heavy step. It’s quite a different feeling when he remembers Castiel who upped and left him in the Bunker that fateful night. The night Dean knew he crossed some invisible line. The door shut loud with cracks of rolling thunder behind the angel, causing another ripple of loss and pain to the brooding hunter who could only stare numbly and half-heartedly to the space left behind in silence. Because they all go in the end, don’t they?

His mom? Jack? Rowena? Everybody else? And now Cas…

So, who cares? Anything could happen now like demons possessing dead bodies. Anyone could go and die with the giant god-elephant on the loose. Might as well let em’. He can’t control anything, doesn’t even hold his own life. _Let em go._

But when the door finally snaps shut, Dean remembered how his whole-body quivered at the cold, endless void left behind by what used to be so warm and comforting. It’s not his surroundings that’s empty per se, but what’s _in_ him _._

Suffocation despite the abundance of air in the large hallway of the Bunker became real, choking on some invisible hands clawing around his throat became a struggle. His knuckles turn white at the grip kept on the table’s edge, stomach clenching with bile content all he wanted to do was to vomit. He felt sick. The ringing sound did not stop at the metal door clanging, but Cas last remarks before he just... _left._

_“It’s time for me to move on.”_

Dean didn’t know what it meant at the time or didn’t let the words sink in. He didn’t trust his wavering emotions, but his eyes that understood what just happened: Cas left. Gone. Moved on.

The door never opened no matter how long he stared at it, no matter how hard he summons the angel. He’s gone. But… Castiel never does that. Castiel never goes. Cas promised to come when he calls… if he calls. _If he prays._

But Dean didn’t and this made all the difference. He just let him go. _He could let him go… it’s better than to hold on to false hope._

Now it haunts him again when he crashes back in a lair made for the monsters of old—places he would never call his home but like some kind of bad twist of fate, always end up in its clutches.

Dean doesn’t care about any fate— he wants to get the blossom quick and to kick Chuck in the ass. Except for this time, he wasn’t doing this alone. This time Castiel refused to leave his side, insisting on staying together with twelve hours bond clock to waste searching for an ingredient made only in this desolated place.

 _‘I left because you didn’t stop me.’_

He’s never heard Cas so broken over such sentiment when the occasion arises for the comment and Dean silently accepted the stinging remark. He walks a little grudgingly ahead, not wanting Castiel to see his guilty look, but he hated himself after. It was rare for Cas to look so dejected when he speaks to him, but Cas had been like that ever since returning from his—wherever it is that he went to. It also reminded Dean how much of an ass he had become because, in fact, he realized how much he doesn’t know what’s happening to Cas anymore.

Cas was right, the angel to apologize but what did Dean do?

He blamed him. Made it hard for Cas when his friend was already broken over the loss of Jack. They both lost something over the incident. So, Dean became really afraid that maybe he and Cas will never be the same again. 

He has to keep his distance, he preferred to nurse his wounded heart when the crisis is over, maybe even talk to Cas about it and properly ask for forgiveness, but when Dean woke up from a beaten head without the angel around in the middle of this wasteland, it snapped something in his brain. No… he hasn’t apologized yet… hasn’t made things right…

Cas was gone.

It scared the hell out of him. 

Every second slipped by are needles prickling his battered heart bleeding of regret and guilt. 

It’s not a new feeling, this guilt. He’d been drowning in silence with no anchor for support on his wavering heart on the brink of shattering to pieces. He turns despairingly to his left, to his right with the back of his eyes burning at the grey picture of cheerless earth and outline of motionless shadow that had become part of his nightmare in the hours that passed. A nightmare that won’t end unless he finds what his heart desires.

_Please…_

He swallows hard when he’s reached another slope but found nothing except the same empty frame. _He’s not here_ , his brain screams. Dean’s eyes water, his breathe hitches with a threatening burst of emotion, but he gotta keep his shit still. Cas doesn’t need his whining ass now, he needs help. He needs rescue. Dean wants to.

But Cas is not here.

Dean ignores the pathetic sound that escaped his lips at the next empty land when his eyes so desperately want to find something. Anything. _I already apologized, but you didn’t want to listen._ He ignores the disconcerting motion at the pit of his stomach wanting him to retch all the bile things he’s said and done. Because every step reminds him of his mistakes, those he chose instead of making peace with his angel because he could not move on. So now he can only go back. Step by step to the things his angel said.

_‘You didn’t stop me’._

_He wanted to. But Cas is not here._

_“CAS!”_

His voice echoes in the arid air but no answer. Purgatory remains cold and sinister above the air of desperation, but what Dean hates above all is its _emptiness._ The ripping cold clutching on the atmosphere like a thin veil of frost, wrapping on his skin, seeping to his pores, claiming him like how it claimed his angel. Like a mouse trapped in an overlarge box, hunting for the exit only to be taken in the meat grinder to die. He could die here too.

_I’m sorry._

He keeps this vigil for a few more minutes with heavy heart, the voice repeatedly echoing its apology of not finding _him,_ ripping his heart every time he sees no creature of light, even doubt any creature could survive the sinister prison of this _Purgatory_. 

He looks above for some sign but nothing… Cas said Purgatory can make people feel guilty. This isn’t just guilt. This is remorse and regret and repentance all over his shoulder where Dean sinks on the floor he walks on.

It took him a while to realize the words are pounding not only from his head but ringing to his ears. He’s been wandering around listening only to his heartbeat, ignorant to the strange words when it hits him. 

_I’m sorry, Cas…._

Words a little too late to save everything… 

_Cas… please…_

The beseeching scream is palpable once he acknowledges the need. It rings piercingly inside his head, clamoring to his very being with deafening rumbles, resonating in the darkest corners of the void he created when he discarded his _everything_. 

Now his _everything_ is gone. Taken to the bowels of this wasteland to meet his doom with no hope of any miraculous rescue—not when the only man who could save him is as hapless and hopeless as it is, blind of where to even begin. His ruthless façade of controlling everything, of hating everything finally crumbling down to pieces, leaving the _steel of_ _the man_ his father made of him shaken, annihilating the combatant, the machine of questions later amidst the battlefield in pathetic wreckage. Only because he couldn’t god damn _forgive._

There’s no battle now, but the glaring crisis remains the same. He now awakens to this daunting reality and sense of loss. The horrid stagnant feeling of hanging by a thread, waiting for the guillotine to strike and severe what he feebly could no longer protect… 

_His heart._

_No… Cas…_

It’s the only thing he got left.

_Cas… I messed up…_

The only thing saving him from himself, from all the bad twisting his soul.

 _Cas… please…_ He finally stops to check the remaining minutes, shell shock at how little time he got. He’s been wandering the hellish place for many hours without his angel. What could he do now? He’s not leaving Cas behind. Like the last time he stayed in this place for a year, he would never leave without Cas.

How did he even last a year without the angel by his side?

Then it hits the hunter, his eyes glinting at the last flicker of life. If heartbeats could kill, he’d be dead in a second. If the monsters in monster land were only paying attention to the lost hunter unsteady and alone in the middle of the forest, now would be their chance while he kneels beside a lifeless tree, exposed and vulnerable with his back to the grey world which seems to matter less and less as he prays and prays. 

What did the priest tell him about prayers? 

_Prayers are just the beginning of some serious soul-searching._

Well, he is serious in searching for Cas and fuck, it’s only to this day that Dean clings on that profound bond he shared with the angel deep in his soul. Some soul searching is fine so _he prays._ With heart on his mouth, _he prays._

_Cas…_

The mere thought is so overpoweringly divine, it lifts the burden on his shoulder the moment he begins to utter the words. A familiar feeling his heart missed, because oh, how long has it been since he last became so honest with himself?

That’s when Dean finds that he is ready. He stops, all pretenses are gone as he leans on the tree absorbed and keen to listen, if Cas burns his eyes for peeking over his

Silence manifests in that profound moment, anchoring his soul to the one thing that it can recognize as its savior. Because even without knowing, Dean knows… his soul knows…

 _‘Cas... Cas, I hope that you can hear me… that wherever you are, that it’s not too late…’_ The chains cut, but the shackles remain heavy. Dean shuts his eyes close. It’s the only thing he can do to save his everything and to this last resort, he clings to, with all his life, with all his soul.

He remembers Cas leaving. How could he forget how he let his best friend walk away that night, the angel’s footsteps loud and heavy on the metal stairs. The sound of the metal door closing. Why he didn’t say anything when Cas’ name was at the tip of his tongue, those seconds he wished Cas would stop and just punch him in the face, to make him see, to make him admit that he’s wrong… but Cas went… and he let him go.

But… it’s never Cas. Cas could do nothing wrong. And if ever the angel misses a path, Dean knows it will never be Cas’ fault. It’s _him. Always him._

“I should've stopped you. You're my best friend, but I was just letting you go, because it was easier than admitting I was wrong...”

_I thought I couldn’t… Cas… I thought I didn’t have the right. I hurt you… I’ve been hurting you a lot every time you run away from me, but that’s just me afraid of losing you… me afraid that you’ll never return so I… this fear… my fear of losing you becomes angry and it’s just there…_

“I don't know why I get so angry... I just know that it's always been there and when things go bad, it comes out. And I can't stop it. No matter how I want to, I can't stop it.”

_This… this isn’t about you. This is me hating myself. I hate myself for hating you because I don’t… I’ve always hated myself, but nothing compared to this… nothing compared to you. You are my angel, Cas and I know that… with all my heart, I know that…_

“And I forgive you. Of course, I forgive you! I’m so sorry…” he bows his head, eyes shutting close.

_How could you ever think I’d never forgive you, Cas? It must be me… not showing it properly but you mean to me, you mean to me a lot and I’ll… I’ll forgive you every day, every time. Even if I die by your hands, know I’ll forgive you. You’re my angel, Cas. You… you can take my life away and I would die happy, cause you’re Cas… and I’m yours… always yours…_

He opens his eyes welling of tears and sees nothing in the blurry view of this nightmare, all his senses intent on his prayer with cheeks damp. Ongoing turmoil keeps a crushing hold on his stomach, his throat dry and constricted from dehydration, his spirit low and fading. He doesn’t care for the tears— he cares that he could be heard. 

He knew it was late, knew he’d break sooner. Knew this goddamn thing that always bites him in the ass will get to him and smack him in the face but he couldn’t help it. Couldn’t save himself now even if he tried. He could die too, right there and then, but _guilt_ chews his insides out _. The guilt of leaving him there in his fate where not even the most underserving angel should end._ Especially Cas. Dean had no qualms of dying himself, but the thought of his friend _’s_ death rattles his world to the core.

He couldn’t let it. Couldn’t let Cas die. Dean Winchester dying is fine… but Cas… _No…_ he’d rip universes to get to him if he could, save him no matter how many times he needs to if he could, because Cas deserves that from him, owed that to Cas. Everything he’s done to Cas is with spite, but he’s never hated Cas. Not even when the angel betrayed him, not even then.

How could he? To the angel who gave up everything for him since the beginning? How could he? To the angel who did everything to save him, help him to the best of his abilities. It’s the sole reason why Dean never thought he could hate the angel—because Castiel always comes through for him. Cas always _chose_ him.

Cas who saved him from hell.

Cas who saved him from the graveyard.

Cas who took out all the fucking monsters just so he and Sam could be saved from the plot of the angels for another Apocalypse. Dean knows. Castiel always did stupid things but never for himself. It’s always to save Dean’s ass. 

_How could he hate someone who’d always choose him even over his life?_

_Cas… Cas, please if you can do one more miracle, Cas… please come back to me._

He knew it would get him one way or another and would always come crashing his walls. It did. He was treading carefully not to touch the remaining thin glass holding him together, but like all-forsaken things, he knew the torrent would come to take him. He felt it raging beneath the pit where he buried everything. And everything he buried comes crashing before he could even pull his head out of his ass to reach out, to reach to him… Cas was taken… Cas was gone.

_Cas could die._

The very thought broke something inside him, not that he’s wholly in one piece, to begin with, but the final straw was pulled and with dawning realization how he could be too late shaking him to the core. He could lose him. The very thought rattles the wall he so built impetuously high and mighty, only to crumble at that one thought…

 _Of losing his angel forever._ He couldn’t. Not that way. Not in this deserted world where Castiel never deserved to be lost. An angel, a best friend he never deserved. 

So, he prays silently still, hoping for any miracle, holding tight on the wish that his angel could pull another miracle for him because … _because, man, he’s dying. Losing Cas can kill him._

 _So, he prays…_ hoping with utmost sincerity that he is alive and well. And if not well, at least, _alive_.

He wished Cas is alive. It’s the only thing keeping him from breaking into pieces, the last thread he’s hanging to before losing it. Funny how it’s the same grim reality he’s woken up to when Cas presumably died. Funny how he landed himself in the same position and this time, it’s all his fault again. The danger of sitting there in the middle of the wilderness where any monsters could attack is not unknown to him.

He got his guard down, got his head bowed with shoulders shaking. He could die right there easily, the most vulnerable position he’s ever committed, but a part of him says maybe he should. 2With the weight of his heart, isn’t he dying already?

 _He could let it_ ; a tiny voice tells him while his mouth quivers.

He could make it easier for his despairing heart. Could pull the plug on his dimming soul as acceptance of death and be done with it. Let the pain stop, let the regret end. Can’t they see he’s drowning already? He won’t make it far… won’t make it now.

He wished not for the first time that he was dead.

After all, he was gone, wasn’t he? He let him slip from his fingers, let those fuckers take him without a fight… 

_He let him go._

He wished he was a hammer. That his heart would remain stone cold, the way to did for weeks, not feeling and just dead. He learned the hard way how hearts are there for a reason. It’s there to make people feel the blow of guilt, their actions, their errors upon the face 

He was there to remind him of how he was a failure not only to the angel but to his brother as well, to Jack whom he turned his back when the kid needed him the most.

But most of all, to himself.

How many times did he ignore the pleading voice beneath the boiling anger and vengeance? 

Of all the bad decisions he’s made in his life. He shouldn’t have said those things… shouldn’t have told Cas… he shouldn’t have acted that way towards Cas… but here he is, too late to regret everything. Here he is, kneeling on the ground with throat constricted, heart-swelling of unmistakable guilt, regret and all the fucked-up emotions he’s gone to he’s familiar with because it’s always been part of him.

_I’m sorry…_

His cheeks damp with tears and words too late… things that should have been said in person… an apology that could have saved him both the pain. He prayed desperately, knows he did. That moment when there’s a piece of him that just wants out, to just choke out the heavy chunk of guilt and then pries his eyes open, wipes his cheeks and grunts as he gets up.

Talking’s done. Walk the talk? He’s saving Cas.

“Okay.”

Dean wipes his eyes as he walks the rest of the way, still broken heart. He’s just pulled himself together, determined to return to the rift to wait for Cas as it was his last option, when something caught his eyes, giving him a very long pause. 

As a hunter, Dean has mastered his senses when it comes to the big bad. Like warning bells in his ears or simply churning of his guts, there’s always miniscule warnings that alert him at once. Just now, spikes all over his body kicked at him sharply, the same warning signs when hell cracked open—

Dean lifted his eyes to the gray sky and sure enough, there’s an additional figure on the cheerless picture: a mountain. 

The hunter’s jaw dropped. Yeah, cool, mountains are awesome. Do they move to? Because surely… that wasn’t there a second ago, and yet…

“What…” He raises his eyes up the mountain that rose out of nowhere looking very ominous from where he stands. The mountain is a dark hump like a slumbering giant, granite gray with twisting dark green trees. Atop its peak lays the darkest cloud Dean ever set his eyes on.

And _son of a bitch,_ he remembers it now, something that knocked in his memory when he heard Michael wants to send them back in Purgatory. This mountain—this mystic mountain Cas had warned him about— 

It’s this place where only a true repentant soul can see. The cloaked mountain unseen by himself when its scale doesn’t permit ignorance. This giant elephant in the room, looming over the lands, watching all creatures move while it hides likes a phantom.

Or at least. Why is it showing to him now?

As easy as the question comes the answer: _Cas._ There’s only one reason and it’s the angel. Mind working furiously, Dean gives the mountain his full attention, suddenly convinced that this is the place he is looking for. This is where Cas can be found—the very place the angel doesn’t want to speak about.

What it did to Cas before, whatever it’s doing to him now, Dean’s gonna stop them this time.

Dean turns eastward to where he will never miss it. A mountain whose peak he could not see from all the mist and gray clouds. Dean sniffs, wiping his nose with the back of his left hand, his eyes dark. Before him lies a mountain and not just any old terrain, but with dark clouds above it, shading the entire landscape and giving it a mystic aura of quest and danger _._

_What do they say about finding a nest of Evils?_

“Just go up the mountain, idiot.” He mutters to himself, taking out the extra flashlight from his pocket and putting one foot forward, then the other. His body drained from the hours of walk and lack of sustenance, but the determination to find Castiel keeps his soul on fire.


	3. Of Purgatory's Purge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All that time, the first white things appeared  
> To be wings my master uttered not a word,  
> And when he was sure who the pilot was, he shouted  
> “Down, down on your knees!  
> There is the angel of God.  
> Put your hands together. From now on you will see such emissaries.”  
> -Purgatorio, Dante Alighieri

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO AWESOME ARTWORK FROM KWEENRATMOTHER! ALL HAIL!

One thing he understood as he stops at the foot of the Mt. Purgatory?

_Evil. Pure malice. Repulsive and foul._

It smashes his face when the gust of cold wind billows down from the top, rendering the hair all over his body to stand, the unpleasant air reaching the depth of his weary heart.

He never asked Cas why he was so apprehensive of the mountain in the beginning. The moment they stepped back in Purgatory, Cas was on his thinking gears and soldier mode to the point of even ignoring Dean’s comments and penchant for sarcastic remarks. But Dean did notice the angel looking back every now and then to this very mountain he now plans to ascent. It grew too dark before he could reach the skirts of the mountain and when he did, the sun was already kissing the sky goodbye.

Dean hesitates, the depressing gray sky and darkness don’t bode well, yet… 

_Cas would never hesitate if Dean was the one taken…._

Funny enough, that’s all the motivation he needed. He made a mental note to tell Sam how bad this journey turned because of all the climb since he’s not the hiking type. Sam will laugh at him, will tell him how he should’ve done morning exercises, possibly tell him to cut the burgers.

He wonders if Sam is okay. The thought brings him a pang of pain.

Taking a deep breath that mists in the cold air, Dean moved feeling a little dejected. Sam. What’s happening to him now? Sam’s smart, and maybe Chuck will let him go. He did leave a message but without Michael… he wonders if hell would be willing to help Sam to get them out of here. Yet, it all meant nothing if he didn’t find Cas now.

The silence is unnerving.

Ignoring the twisting knots at the pit of his stomach, the hunter braces himself for an agonizing and dreary walk. 

He continued this unending drudgery on the same clear path surrounded by trees. The slope is quite different than the pathway he’s taken before. The ground is sharper, more treacherous, but it’s the darkness surrounding the base of the mountain that gets Dean halting at its foot. It took him some time but he reached it, once he did, he knits his brows and realized for the last time why they call this place Purgatory—a place not fit for the living, but for creatures of darkness that continue to bemoan the rejection of their Creator _._ It starts with the whisper on the chilling wind.

Dean gasps at the cold air, his round eyes casting looks in different directions. There’s no rustle of leaves but the wind hangs in the air, thick and dense. His peripheral notice movements, but there are no figures nor shape to tell. Yet cold air shifts, making the empty spaces between the trees seem like a hundred surround them.

Dean pauses, eyes in the darkness trying to find its name but then…

Ghosts… _… no…. shadows._ Shadows? It clicks back—how Purgatory is not only meant for monsters but for the souls of the sinners. Dean’s heart skips a beat. He wildly looks around, expecting to see a ghost, a face—anything. But all he can do is _feel._

“Shit…” he curses with a decision hanging in the balance. He looks back from where he came from, then throws a look at the deep forest where not even his own shadow can accompany him. He thinks of Cas getting dragged here. An angel of light and life to be taken somewhere dark and evil. Against all the odds, he knew he’d die for Cas, there’s no question on that.

 _Big words._ A voice whispers on his right and he snaps around, horrified. 

The voice sounded so clear and deep. Dean told himself he was never gonna be afraid of ghosts again. But shadows? Will salt get rid of em?

_Coward._

Dean grits his teeth then step in. _Fuck._ Shadow or not, he is spooked.

The eerie sound made by those he cannot see, these creatures feasting in the absence of all that is pleasant in the blessed world from the whispering of wind to the rustling of leaves, the running of the river, for all here is dead and frozen to the roots _._

Only the unearthly voices of unforgotten resentment, and anger courses in the shadows of the hills, hiding in the dark recesses of the forest where they prowl and bid their time in the land of the monsters. Waiting… waiting…

Cas is here, he knows it, with sharp eyes narrowing forward. It couldn’t be anywhere else. He didn’t know the record, but whoever took Cas… Eve… if she’s the most powerful, then Mount Purgatory rightfully deserves its title as her nest. If there’s any Mother of Monsters to reign above this, she should be found in the foulest area in the land. No need to prolong the agony.

It takes a while for his eyes to adjust in the dark. 

He looks around, just looks around without seeing. Half of him is expecting the angel to appear around the corner, bearing his old-fashioned grumpy look of disapproval that Dean went in this place when Castiel himself said not to go there. But that was eons ago and it’s not like Dean’s in a hurry to find more unpleasant things. But Cas is here, he knows the string tugging at the back of his spine leading here. An instinct to its other half, begging to be found.

_Wait for me._

Something moves at the corner of his eye. Dean snaps his head in attention but sees nothing. He first thought of ghosts, but the voice at the back of his mind tells him they are something else.

Stop the distraction. The unpleasant knot in his stomach twists and he curses himself. He checks the hours every pitstop, eyes roaming, aware how the restless movements have grown in the past few minutes. Only the sound of his boots crunching on the twigs can be heard above the sound of his shallow breath. 

_I’m coming, Cas…_

They couldn’t end like this; he won’t let it. Time doesn’t stop, not for anyone. 

Where are the gods when you need them?

_“Keep off the mountain, Dean.”_

“Make me.” Dean murmurs to himself, his flashlight out, following the path heading eastward, up the steep earth. No grass grew beyond the point of the mountain’s feet, Dean noticed, which gives him an idea of what to expect. He ignored the sinking feeling of shadows creeping over his head once the sun has finally shut down its doors, leaving him in the cold silence of the dead trees and darkness.

One thing to cheer himself up? Castiel’s angry face once he finds out Dean went out and about like this for him. Cas hates it when Dean does that which was unfair considering how Cas is always the one ending with the short straw in this relationship.

Relationship… _huh._

Way to make progress by making his angel walk away so many times. 

Dean stiffens.

It certainly is cold, but he’s never felt cold wrapping around his shoulder like a blanket. He sharply looks around, knowing—feeling—someone’s watching him, but seeing none. Warily, he takes every step of the way with more vigilance. He stays on the path, just stay on the path.

Monsters? Eve? Animals? He couldn’t decide what, but the growing malice in his surroundings is enough to convince him something is out there to get him.

_‘Go back…’_

“Shut up, Cas…” Dean growls. He wants to see Cas not hear the angel’s sentiment about how Dean’s poorly treated him. Then again, Dean thinks it’s well deserved, going by how much anger he’s pelted towards his best friend’s way. The kind of anger that now ebbed away after many trials and realizations. That kind he regrets everything he says in the end because ultimately, it’d be him hurting those people he cares about the most.

Making them let go. Making them leave, the way he pushed Cas away.

And Dean blamed him for going when he’s the one driving them away?

_‘You didn’t stop me’_

His shoulder suddenly feels so heavy. Dean clears his throat and ignored it. But with every step, he knew the weight is getting heavier. Is it because he’s tired? When was the last time he’s eaten? He doesn’t feel hungry at all. Every step his thick boots dig down the earth. Every breath sends spikes on his chest. There are invisible hands pulling him back, wanting to drag him to the ground, but he refuses to give in. Instincts telling him someone’s following him around. Been doing so for an hour. What do they want from him? Where’s Dean’s innate ability to drive anyone away when he needed it?

He’s got to find Cas.

If by any chance of luck, Cas survives, Dean wishes his friend don’t think badly of him. Not with his 

_‘You didn’t stop me.’_ Cas reminded him in his gravelly voice. 

“I didn’t want to…” Dean whispers back, stopping all of a sudden, surprising himself even. He blinks back the tears that threaten to fall. He raises his chin up and grows the wave of emotion. _“Fuck.”_

He moves again, slow and dragging, defeated. Hours. Hours could be passing, he doesn’t know. But he got the weirdest haunch that he’s only going in circles.

He grips his weapon, his mouth screwing. Dean doesn’t care about the dying part. He cares about finding Cas. How long ago had he been taken? Probably about an hour or so, maybe half, he’s still a bit winded. How many enemies? Probably more when they reach the nest. Dammit, they’re taking Sam to some Leviathan nest—those gangs of monsters Cas swallowed—maybe some of the brothers or sister or whatnot—but one thing is clear, the more time he spends away from the angel, the more Cas is in danger. 

_Like you can do anything for him._

Dean tightens his fists into balls.

_“DEAN!”_

The voice comes out of nowhere like an explosion rattling from the depths of the mountain. A sound so heavy and in despair enough to send a jet of panic in the hunter’s already rampaging heart. He heard Cas—he fucking heard— sounding so much in pain and full of anguish— Dean’s heart rams straight to his gut, turning to the voice—

“Cas?” he stays still, beat of his heart slowly picking up and then—

 _“DEAN!”_ comes the echo. Dean’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. He doesn’t hesitate this time. He sprints out of the path and shoots like a bullet to the bushes, to the trees, to wherever Cas’ tortured voice is coming from—

_Forgotten…_

_“CAS?”_ Dean cries voice strained, back of his eyes hurting. 

_Forgotten…_

“No… I won’t…” Dean says weakly, voice faltering as he speeds from one corner to the other, clearly lost. “Cas… I won’t… he won’t…” He tries to calm himself but the voices of the Shadows—of this _Forgotten_ folk is overwhelming. There are just too many conflicting emotions of sadness and pain and distraught and fear. But what gets Dean the most is how he can relate to them.

How he’s just like them. _Dead inside._

“Cas…” he whispers feebly in his clogged throat, his breathing short. He leans his hand on a tree, desperate and lost. All the sudden running has lost him the path. He finds himself in the middle of darkness and nothing more—not even his own body could be seen. 

But he’s not alone. Fucking, not alone. They were with him, they linger, they whisper, they groan in the air, their clamor heard in the silence. All because Dean can feel…

_One of them…_

Dean stares at the darkness with the thin cloak of ice in the air. His heart which was just doing razor noises, slowly settles down, making him painfully aware of another sound which was the pounding of his head. 

He heard Cas, he’s sure… In this desolate place had him. But what if it’s all a trick?

It didn’t sink. Cas is here. Nothing was making him understand the steady flow of tears jumping out of the corners of his eyes, his dark lashes wet and heavy. What is that feeling of absolute loss? That feeling of eternally condemned? Why does he feel so heavy and why… why does Cas’s voice sound so much in pain? 

Dean swallows on his dry throat, takes a lungful of air and in the darkness, let his growl ring at the depths of the mountain. 

_“Cas!”_

Shout is all he could do. 

No matter how stupid, he gotta let the steam out. The heavy chain of guilt has to go somewhere. He clings on that last shred of hope that the angel is okay… that Cas is not hurt. But Cas’ life is in danger…the Shadows are telling him so… he doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does.

He can hear Cas’ voice among the Forgotten. Despair eats his insides, there’s no stopping it. Conflicting emotions play in his heart, anxiety for his missing friend and apprehension for what’s to come. Before long, Dean’s breathing hard, air filling his lungs not enough. His nerves break at the prospect of losing another friend. His best friend. Cas… Castiel will die here like Benny— _forgotten—_

_No!_

The thing about being alone… the thing about it that Dean hates the most… _is being left with himself._

_The toll of being the only one—the one they’re all counting at to do something, to save them gets Dean. Who first? Sam? Cas? He won’t abandon Cas, no, but if they kill him… maybe he’s dead and he’s wasting his time here—maybe Chuck will change his mind and kill Sam too. And it all came crashing in._

Dean groans.

“Cas!?” his voice hoarse, his nerves dying, dead, frantic. He yells the name, again and again till his lips are dry, his stomach twisting. That’s when the pain registers even when he’s barely injured. It comes to him now, the flood of pain.

Castiel has to be safe somewhere. Cas must be fighting now to get back to him.

_“CAS!”_

Both ache and loss are crippling, he doesn’t even know if he’s on the right path. He trudges the ground with heavy feet, dragging them more like with chains from where Cas was taken. Where Cas was kidnapped. The place Dean figured out waiting would do him no good, not if he wants to help his friend. 

_“Cas!”_

It’s the piercing silence that haunted Dean from the core. It’s where it begins to crumble. Cas said he’ll always come when he calls. Something tested and bested between them a long time ago in Purgatory and this time, Castiel may never answer.

_What’s the only thing Dean can do?_

Dean’s faculties fluctuate.

His walls are useless now. He can feel it slowly crumbling down piece by piece every step of the way on the uneven ground. Opening his wounds anew as they’ve never healed at all, no. Added with a terrible pain at the back of his mind that always surges forward at the slightest reminder. Memories that never left him.

They never did. He’d always felt them, they have been part of him ever since his mother died on the ceiling that night. Ever since his father chose revenge over his children. Ever since Sam left—ever since everyone started leaving him; the hidden slit of all his wounds was always there. Will be part of him till the end, but always much worse than the last. 

This time, he doesn’t think he can handle the pain of this loss.

Not anymore. He’s tired. He just… he just wants to find Cas and get out of here with his angel. But it seems like as usual, the fates are out of his favor. 

He stifles the broken sound fighting to come out of his mouth. Purgatory always had to bring that out of him. Like Purgatory always knows where to hit the buttons so the floodgates would open and consume him, drown him.

Take him and make him one of them. The alarming thing is Dean’s acceptance in the end. He is a sinner, always been one of em if this was the place where the sinners who feel regret come, then surely this is where he will end too…

_Because he fucking regrets hurting Cas—!_

“CAS!” his voice breaks every ounce of energy as he shouted the angel’s name but there was still no answer. He tries to slow his breathing, remembering how his panic had gotten the best of him until Benny laughed at his ass. Dean desperately tried not to let the tearing sob out of his throat when he remembered his friend.

_Is Benny among them?_

Something important. Something he couldn’t afford to lose. Just like how Benny Lafitte slipped out without Dean knowing. Without anyone remembering when… dying alone in the woods of the monsters—

Castiel can’t be dead, he had to believe that. The thought tears some fabric on his chest, the organ getting ripped out of his chest leaving a hollow so dark and cold, he can still feel it sinking down the bottomless pit because…

 _Cas, where are you…?_ He can’t keep his head straight, voice finally yielding.

Dean’s vision doubles and he struggles to find his balance. His body sways but manages to support his weight when he leans on a tree. It did not do anything to stop the plummeting feeling his whole body is experiencing. Cas is still not beside him. He lost him. The hunter shuts his eyes and takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

No… Please be alive…

Dean opens his eyes and wipes his damp cheeks. The tears hadn’t stopped since he began some fifteen minutes ago. He can’t remember any other time where he walks in the woods, crying his heart out for his angel to hear. But Dean would do it again if it means Castiel would hear him.

“CAS!”

Just the sound of his beating heart pounding inside his ears as an answer. He tears off the lane, his blood pumping in his veins. The sound of blood crashing in his ears.

“CAS!”

He didn’t want to think of what could be happening to his friend. Didn’t want to think how against Eve, Castiel is powerless. The mere thought of Cas using the last ounce of his power fighting to survive makes his lips tremble. An angel can’t die here… Cas is not like him… _Cas has no sin—_

_Except for always helping Dean._

_A rebound of voice from the past— “The very touch of you corrupts! When Castiel first laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost!”_

To Purgatory.

“Cas…” he breaths, a large lump in his throat, finally shutting his eyes and letting large fat tears slide down his red cheeks, spilling down to his jaw. A low groan escapes his mouth that made breathing a little difficult. Dean shakes his head. 

_Breathe…_

_Too late._

All the hair in his body snaps and he knew it's more than shadows now. He hears the growl, feels them get closer. Dean looka up and see the beasts.

They came in a pack.

They came hungry.

Dean sees himself reflected in their hungry eyes, his instincts screaming to turn around, to look behind him because there’s more.

_Run._

All he hears are the growling, the gnashing of teeth and the wind whizzing past his ears. 

Dean tears his way on the bushes, uncaring of the twigs grazing his cheeks, cutting his skin, leaves smacking his body, knocking everything on his way with heart racing. Dozens of wolf-like creatures— _his gorilla wolves—_ are hot in pursuit, hurtling after him with thundering roars and rumbles enough to keep Dean’s soul barrel out of his body.

The chase goes on with bones in his body breaking. His limbs are on flames from the exertion, his head throbbing from all the stabbing pain coming from everywhere. He’s gotta keep running if he wants to live, he tells himself. He will get torn apart and no one will ever know what happened to him less they see his clothes—if that’s any consolation.

There’s a stitch on his side, he hurts all over but he knows he can’t stop. The wolves can’t be far, it’s impossible to outrun them in his condition, but he’s got to try. His lungs scream, burning inside, and yet one thing that Dean regrets, just regrets ever hurting the angel.

He hastily wipes them with the back of his hand. One thing for certain, however, scuffles of paws have been following him from some time now and it all manifested when a gorilla wolf is staring him in the eye from a protruding rock, waiting for him to move like a proper prey on a hunt that he is. Dean grits his teeth and pulls the gun. He shoots nonstop then breaks into a run. He is hunted.

He pretty much blacked out the entire time he’s chased. Skin gets torn by both sharp leaves and rocks, stumbling down, then heavy paws bouncing off his back, crashing with him on the ground.

He struggles up, elbow on the side, feet kicking. Dean makes a minute, just a minute to think. He takes the dagger he always keeps inside his pockets but the wolf’s sharp teeth clamp down his right arm, tearing on his flesh with blood gushing all over his body. Well, pain is simple, life is not. 

Dean growls and smashes his elbow on the vicious creature holding his arm in its mouth. The pull of sharp teeth alerts him, the numbing sensations of shock helping the hunter who scrambles to his feet. Instinct prevailing while fighting off a rising fear, he makes a run for it. Surging adrenaline catches Dean by surprise. It moved so fast, he barely registers the fear of trying to escape from one, two to three wolves now moving dangerously fast in his direction. 

Fuck, if he doesn’t join Sam in his marathon now. 

The trees seem to jump all over the place. Every turn, he trips on tree roots and trunks. Once, he smashes his chest direction on a branch, knocking the air out of his body, sending him crashing on the ground. The cuts and bruised don’t matter as he kneels on his feet, listening intently for any animals to attack with heart destroying his cage for ribs.

He sees nothing for a second, but then, hairs prickle at the back of his neck and he’s turning— he gets knocked down cursed again and again when the wolf bared its teeth to his neck—salivating at the taste of his fresh. With an energy that came from nowhere, Dean wrestles with the wolf, locking his bleeding arm on its neck and stabbing it right in the eyes.

A howl pierced the air with Dean screaming as at the last attempt for defense, the wolf growls down on his right arm, ripping the skin with its sharp teeth, tearing away any hope, any sense of safety, only leaving what burned his body.

Exact, paramount pain. 

He hears a cry—his own moan of pain. He’ll never forget it. 

The cold press against his body, the heat of searing pain making his eyes water. Blood gushed out of his arm, flooding down his side openly. Dean grits his teeth and shoulders the dead wolf off his body. He makes a run for it, till he is panting, muscles burning, injured side numbed. It must be the innate monster in him that ripped the wolf out of his meat—must be his arms with its own mind reaching for the dagger in his pocket, cutting the throat of one and stabbing another in the eyes next—but with repercussions. 

He’s able to scare the rest by killing an alpha—it doesn’t save him because the leader of packs like that pulls punches even at their dying breath. Hot blood bulks out of his elbow gush out once released by the hideous creature’s sharp fangs and Dean groans. His vision doubles at the pain, at the heat at the lack of air but no attack came. He doesn’t know how he managed it, but the cool touch of leaves on his face somewhat eased the soreness on his arm. But he can no longer move. 

_It hurts, Cas…_

He can smell blood all over his body, his broken skin spoiled and slippery from the blood. His head throbs like it’s joining the orchestra, dulling his senses further. Everything is lulling him to sleep.

And he thinks for a moment, _why not?_

_It hurts… fuck…_

So, he lets his back press down an alcove, sliding down the cool branch till he is sitting on the ground, beaten and wounded. What a sight he must be. 

What about Cas? Is he still…?

Gulping hard, Dean clutches on his wounded side, feels the thickness of his own blood coating his fingers and palms. He’s dying and no one will ever know what happened to him. He hopes that at least, Cas managed to survive, then again, Castiel too has a knack of slipping death, just like him and Sam.

Dean chokes as he suppresses his amusement. He can taste blood on his mouth.

_This is it._

He knows when Death meets him in the eyes. It’s not even that daunting he felt when in the eyes of the old Death and Billie. But they all disappear when his mind brings forth the image of his angel glaring, disapproving.

_There you are…_

Dean can’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. And it’s with all his heart that he prays again to that beautiful being. The only other being Dean will live and die for… figuratively speaking. He stares up the dark sky, his breath coming slow and even. 

Dean lowers his eyes on the ground, his strength slowly seeping away. 

There are so many emotions being rammed inside his chest and all of them are pure: _hatred, fear, guilt_ , _anger, frustration, sadness, loneliness…regret._

_Regret. So much regret._

Nothing he never knowns. A limbo he’s familiar with, he’s just been through it. The voices beckon him and he knows now why they feel so familiar. He brushes the back of his hands on his eyes many times, but the voices won’t go. They want him. _They will claim him._

_He belongs here… To Purgatory…_

Maybe… rightfully so… but weren’t those sinners accepted here according to Bible camp, only those willing… only those… _ready to repent…_

Dean shuts his eyes, more tears joining the mess on his face. In a click, he understood why he’ able to find the mountain easy now… because he’s ready…and because he remembers finally what the priest told him…

_Cas… got ears… what am I sayin… you have. I hope you have._

His lips begin to tremble at the rawness of the emotion, but he couldn’t stop. Once he begins, it’s impossible to stop. He closes his eyes and lets it take him instead.

 _Cause I don’t think I’d be able to tell you all this in person, Cas… I think…_

A lump form in his throat and his eyes burn. He doesn’t stop the welling tears anymore. He is so tired. Exhaustion drapes his body, but he wills himself still breathe. Darkness envelops his surroundings, leaving him in the shadow of the wilderness with numbing pain his brain He feels sorry that he’s dying. Can feel the life leaving his torn, messed up body. If he thinks he’s dying? If he thinks he’s ready? If he confesses to it now, Dean would say he’s not really ready, neither is he afraid.

Well, that sounded arrogant. So maybe Chuck willed this too. But if Dean really is honest, like how he told the priest on his last confession the universal, _bless him now, he’s dying…_

_So, he’s dying…_

He stares up, jaws locking, lungs of fire for lack of air, his body growing cold, ceasing its movements. He knew things were about to go bad. And he just misses Cas and awfully feels so wrought about it. He failed Cas over and over. Guilt overrides all other emotions, but after sometimes of crying, of feeling hopeless loneliness, he believed again that Cas is alive somewhere…

_Take care of Sam… I know you would. You always do care for us…_ Tears are droplets of rain on his neck down his chest, they can’t stop. Dean chokes blood on his shirt. It’s weird how _slow death_ doesn’t scare him. In fact, he’s grateful. It means he can keep talking to Cas…

His heart swells at his friend. If Cas is listening, if Cas is in fact listening, Dean couldn’t help feeling guilty. He’s leaving Cas like this. He’s really a messed-up friend.

_I’m gonna miss you, Cas… thank you… for being my angel. And I am sorry. You were… you were always there… You put up with me… and I was… undeserving. Just another fucked up human with nothing. I got nothing Cas, before you found me. I owe you everything… You never really left my side, and if you did, we both know it’s my fault…_

He chokes. He can endure physical pain. But his emotions? _It’s palpable._

_You… you are my only angel. My one and only angel. Thank you and right now… all I pray is for your happiness._

_Be happy, Cas… and please let me go. Like how I did you, you gotta let me go._

Tears stream down like a damn ocean. Dean’s consciousness wavers to and from… and then he’s sinking in the darkness…down…down… he opens his lips one last time. _Sorry for leaving…_ Dean gets swallowed in the pit of darkness. Maybe he’ll be cloth in darkness. Maybe he’ll meet Benny, that’s a comforting thought. His body will rot here, be food to maggots and still Dean would linger. Maybe he’d meet the shadows… maybe…. It’s just the end.

_In his late dream, he dreams of meeting Cas… in another universe maybe. He sees the angel sitting against a large bole of a tree and all the air leaves his lungs when he calls his name—at hearing Cas calls him backs—bloody and worse for wear but alive nonetheless, stumbling up from the hollow of the tree he’s using as a respite, lumbering towards him in his dirty trench coat with relief washing his angelic face._

_Cas._

_“You did it.” He can see the relief washing Castiel’s expressions, the very words suggesting he believed Dean. He never doubted him. That he’s sure Dean can make it back to him._

_“I did?”_

_But Cas is there on him and Dean doesn’t stop—he takes Castiel on his arms and grips him close, holding him tight like there’s not enough space to go. If he sobbed only the angel rightfully hears the longing, the relief, the ache and happiness for finally, finally catching up to him. He thinks of Jimmy Novak telling him having an angel riding your meatsuit feels like riding out a comet. Dean got an angel in him and it doesn’t feel like this._

_He hears Cas gasps on his ear, throat bobbing at some reply he says, but Dean only focuses on the point that the solid body by his side is the real thing. An exchange of harried info, Dean wished Cas would fix himself up. He feels like he’s the one with the bloody head and ragged breathing the way he watches Cas._

_“You don’t have to say… I heard your prayer.”_

It’s a happy meeting, so happy it wrenches his soul apart. Such are dreams. A perfect end to such a _Divine Comedy_ where they both triumph against the chaos of life. A happy meeting under the gray sky but it didn’t matter with the way how their hearts must be glowing at meeting again. If he would be given the same chance as the guy in his dream holding the angel tight in his arms, if he could turn back time, he will make sure to keep him in his arms… to keep him safe… keep him happy. The ache of longing is more painful than any of his current injuries. 

And Dean just realizes how much he wants to, loves to, begs to see Cas one last time. The remorse and repentance chain his twisting soul. He knows he won’t be forgiven easily. Asking for forgiveness, apologizing at the last minute, a soul that repents at the last minute does not have the luxury to demand.

But if he could, he really wished to see Cas. 

The silence is deafening. He wonders if heaven will take him back. Uh. Out of question, they won’t. He will rot here, branded by iron—maybe someone from those shadows from the mountain will take him—and put a mark on his forehead too. Then as it was written, maybe his soul will get stuck outside the doors of Purgatory, miserable and sad, where he must wait years before he gets admitted then what… will he see Castiel then?

He can always hope beyond the pain.

But the sun’s gone and maybe if he wasn’t dying, he’d hear the Shadowy heralds singing for the moaning souls to shut the fuck up. Because there’s only silence.

Except for that beating, a steady rhythm of his heart that refused to just stop. It’s one of those moments in life where things don’t flash anymore and only one question needs to be answered.

_Am I dead…? Why not?_

Damn heart being too loud…

_Dean…_

Leave me alone.

_Dean come back…_

I want to die; I can’t see him again.

_Where are you, Dean? Follow my voice._

No, thank you.

_Dean…_

Quit it. A growl in the air has Dean opening his eyes a little. 

And finds himself staring another wolf with bloody eyes an inch away from his feet. Dean doesn’t bother getting up, he stares the beast in the eyes unflinchingly. Or—a one-eyed creature? The wolf is injured and angry, he can see the outline of its standing fur. Okay. So angry. Must be one of those he stabbed… but you join a fray, you really get that, buddy…

 _I’m not fighting._ Dean lets his eyes flutter close with a light sigh. Make it count, he wants to tell the creature because if he doesn’t, you don’t want Dean Winchester after your back.

He smiles. Soon he’ll only be a carcass.

_Dean._

Oh? You still there, uh… I’m sleepy, this is not really the time…

_Dean…_

The growling gets louder, nearer. Dean waits for the bite on his neck, his back sinking on the root of the tree. Can’t this beast eat quietly?

Silence prevails after a second. So maybe he’s already dead. But the buzzing sound of the wind, the billowing noise of sharp wind coming from a distance followed by a thunderous voice invades his peace told him otherwise of what’s coming for him. Suddenly, no beast nor monster came.

_Because he is here. He always comes._

Dean sighs, waiting. Really. He feels it in his soul, a tug of connection of something _profound._ It’s been trying to reach him and now he’s here. He sees him coming like the torrent of light—much brighter than the sun and the stars—pure and powerful—and that’s not his physical form—

_Open your eyes, Dean!_

A flood of white light and bright warmth of the sun invades Dean’s soul when he did.

_Why is he seeing this?_

_Cas with wings invading the darkness of his dreams and Dean smiles when the glowing eyes found him. “Took you long enough.”_

_“Dean!”_ his angel dives down. Dean sees the eternal white wings glow, sees it at its majestic form and Castiel brings his arms around him, wrapping him in warmth and light. _Life._

_Cas._

Dean hisses at the heat pouring down his body. Something is breaking from the shadows up ahead. He tells himself to open his eyes but he’s too drained and exhausted. A dull pain shakes him but it disappears and all that is left is a memory. He knows he’s dreaming.

A dream where all his pain and maladies disappear with one touch from someone so gentle.

“Dean… wake up…” says the voice more urgently.

Soft hands, careful and loving caresses his cheeks, rubbing, trembling on every solid touch, warming his body, his soul. Dean hums, feeling grateful. He opens his eyes to the light that is Castiel. Emotions ripped through Dean. If this is a dream, he’d never want to wake up. He opens his mouth, wanting to call him, but his words fail him when his eyes see pass the concerned looking angel—pass his shoulder—up to his gigantic pair of wings.

Castiel with his wings.

It took Dean’s breath away.

The glow surrounding the angel’s bare chest bursts like starlight of heavens, all glory filled and sparkling, just shining white. In his blue eyes shine a depth of indignation and protection, but also love and concern. Sharp blue eyes glinting like blue diamond emits power in the darkness. The angel sets his cold eyes in the surrounding as if he could see something Dean could not—and as he did—the thick air lessened and Dean is able to breathe much freely. What was that about? Did Cas part the darkness?

“Dean?” 

Dean’s eyes stay on the image of holy light with blue eyes like the sky— he never thought he’d see it again. His heart flutters both in pain, longing and much more, yet, despite the power surging from the angel, Dean doesn’t understand why his best friend, upon looking down on him, seemed to wait anxiously, if not tensely for his response. 

“Gethsemane…” he whispers at the stroking fingers on his cheeks.

Castiel blinked back tears. “W-what?”

“ _His sweat became as blood’… I thought… this place was gonna be my final resting place…”_

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel embraces him, his face planting so close on Dean’s cheeks. “I’m sorry—I—” Castiel cups his face, wipes the tears on Dean’s very dirty face and pulls him to kiss the top of the hunter’s brows, Dean’s name on his lips. 

“C-Cas…” Dean’s whole face burned at the surmounting affection and having none of it seconds ago— the downpour is drowning.

“Dean, I’m glad… I’m so glad…Oh…” Castiel presses a wet kiss on the hunter’s forehead again and again. “I heard your prayer… all of it… and when I heard you… felt your soul slowly diminish I… I’m sorry….” He pulls Dean close with arms shaking. His hold only tightens as Dean groans with his face plastered the angel’s bare chest. 

Then again, it’s not such a bad idea. And his head is still floating despite all his injuries healed.

“Y-your smoldering me…and…” he carefully he plants both palms on the angel’s chest and pushes him out a little. “Cas! Y-your wings!” he breathes out, thunderstruck and appalled at the angel glowing with countenance too bright for his eyes as he cradles the man on his arms. “How—?”

Castiel’s eyes glints, his thumb caressing the hunters face fondly, with eyes too soft and bright. “I… got some essence of my grace…” 

“How…?” Dean waits but the angel only smiles quietly down at him, the invincible power surrounding his body not dissipating. Instead, Castiel holds him closer.

“Sleep, Dean… you have been through some ordeal. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

That should be enough to bring Dean to his knees. It should be enough to make him break down because he is so undeserving, but Castiel’s moving grace circling around him was not letting him stay on his dark thoughts. They don’t linger. He cleanses them.

Castiel cleanses him.

“Your wings…” Dean says weakly, overwhelmed. “I can see em…”

“It’s because we’re in Purgatory and I mean to intimidate anyone who tries to threaten your life again. Dean, the shadow cannot keep my wings any longer. This is how my wings look like.”

“They are beautiful,” Dean says, his eyes falling on the angel, the stroke of adrenaline finally sinking now. He watches as Castiel smiles more, watches as those eyes lean down to kiss his pain away, leaving behind a blossoming feeling of love and affection which Dean unconsciously returns when he instinctively moves his head and brush his lips on the angel’s lips.

Before letting darkness claim him.

This… this is a better ending.


	4. Of Our Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So that, when will has yielded  
> Much or little,  
> It has abetted force as these souls did  
> They could have fled back to their holy shelter.’  
> -Paradiso, Dante Alighieri

[ __ ](https://kweenratmother.tumblr.com/post/612528542887067648/ayyyy-folks-heres-my-half-of-the-deancas-reverse?fbclid=IwAR1T7VZVfM2SjAzg_ZL7NtpEXiu1Cf8AKv_7vF7K-I6DazC0sWZ0CxymOqg)

_Cas has wings._

_The image is hard to forget. Castiel in his full power, his eyes are orbs of mystic light, glowing in strength and power—the kind of image Dean had dreamed his best friend would once again achieve because Cas deserves to be given back his title and glory, Cas who’d done nothing but to protect him. He is breathtaking. He is beautiful._

_He hears the wings—the familiar sound of beating wings rushing in his ears, taking him from the hands of those that were forgotten…severing any links they latched on his soul for he, Dean Winchester, has already been claimed a long time ago. The arms wrapped around his body are an assurance of protection._

* * *

Dean opens his eyes, squinting hard at the blinding light above his head. He recognizes the lamp at least. Bunker light. He is also lying on a soft material surrounded by brick walls and shelves of the endless books from the Men of Letters. He is warm, a blanket over his body. Comfort is one word for what he’s feeling. He wants to sleep more. He was having such a wonderful dream of Cas naked to the waist with his gigantic wings spread out in galore, full of life as Dean last saw it. Beautiful. Castiel was beautiful. Cas… where…?

Dean bolts up to a sitting position, the name ready to punch out of his lips—

“Dean.”

The hunter snaps his head to find him—Castiel in his trench coat again—how the heck did he sew that back together after going Hulk evades Dean totally, but it soon slipped his mind when the angel walks around the couch to sit at the edge of the couch beside him. Castiel looks at him with concern obvious in his eyes as he sets one had at the back of the couch and another on Dean’s wrist, holding him for comfort. Dean is glad Cas did. 

He’s never been so touched starve before. 

“Are you okay, Dean?” he asks gently, Dean’s eyes following the shape of his lips. The bad ideas swirl and if he doesn’t get the ideas off his head, he’s afraid it’ll be too late.

“I’m…” he blinks back with green eyes catching the blue. “What happened?”

Castiel gives him a reproving look mixed with worry etched at the corner of his eyes. He keeps a steady hold on Dean’s wrist, fingers pressing on the skin like he’s making sure of the stable beat on the hunter’s pulse. Dean gives him a narrowed look. Cas looks a little disheveled. Was Cas returning to power just a dream, then?

“Cas?”

Castiel trails his eyes from Dean’s arm to his chest, before their eyes met. It’s clear to Dean how disturbed the angel had been.

“You passed out. You scared me, Dean, I thought I was too late.”

“What?”

“You lost too much blood; I healed your body as much as I can with my grace.”

Dean ogles at him. “You may want to explain more than that—I mean, dude— _your wings!”_ Castiel looks behind him and for a second, Dean worries for him. “It’s still there, right?”

“Of course.”

Dean inhales. He places a hand upon the angel’s shoulder and squeezes him. “Oh, shit. I thought I was just dreaming… y-you got your wings back! I thought you lost it again because of me back there.”

“I wouldn’t mind losing my grace again, Dean, if it meant I saved you. I would gladly use all of it to have you back. You were…” Cas’ voice trails away.

“What?” Deann demanded, “You gave up your grace for me?”

“You were dying,” Castiel says firmly and his tone doesn’t invite any argument. “Don’t you ever think I wouldn’t exchange my grace over your life, Dean. I will do it in a heartbeat. Do not underestimate my priorities.” When Dean falls silent despite the rising debate on his throat, the angel’s eyes soften and he reaches his palm on the hunter’s cheeks.

Dean sighs at the warm touch. He doesn’t remember when the last time somebody had given him such an affectionate gesture, but he finds himself greedy enough to close his eyes.

“You’re an idiot, Cas.”

“It’s not bad if I can keep you alive. Now, are you feeling okay? I’m in the middle of finishing the ingredient for Chuck’s container and—”

“You’re doing it already—wait—”

Dean follows the angel immediately, unprepared for the buckling of his knees. He nearly thrashed on the floor if not for Castiel taking hold and gripping his elbow tight. Dean turns to him with red eyes but the angel only squarely pointed over the vacant chair nearby and spoke so calmly, his voice able to make the hunter stare because no he isn’t dreaming.

Cas is still with him. There’s a moment they both just looked at each other quietly where they both pour on the memories of the recent events, where Dean had to convince himself that the chair he is sitting on is real and Castiel with his wings back did happen— it sinks in further even though he’s gushed about it before.

“Holy shit— _Cas! You got your wings back!”_

Castiel regards Dean for a moment, “I know, Dean.”

“Don’t act like it’s not a big thing! Crap—your wings! Your grace! Does that mean you’re not—you’re not a fallen angel anymore!?” Dean thinks his head will explode, the grin unstoppable and for a moment—shoot—Sam. 

“I don’t think it matters what label of an angel they call me.” Castiel affirms with the corner of his mouth twitching, “But I rather you sit on the chair for a while, Dean while I settle what we need to meet god.”

“I’m fine, I wanna sit,” Dean says stubbornly before anyone or anything could stop him, taking the angel by surprise for a moment. He lets Cas’ grumpy look stay, before exchanging glances with the angel, almost ready for any argument. A comfortable silence fell, the bond they fought for, that one bond they did not let go now much stronger than before. Dean feels it. It’s inside him like another talisman, secured and keeping him safe.

Yet, despite this newly established connection, there remains one question to be asked. The hunter watches Castiel turn to the table and grab the dagger. There’s almost a fellow, more domestic feature in his Cas than the last one he encountered before they went to Purgatory, but then, a lot of things changed in those 12 hours. 

“Cas… what happened back there?”

Castiel eyes him from the table. He lowers the dagger a little when he reads Dean—because that’s how deep the connection goes. It takes him a moment, a flicker of assurance on Dean’s part before the angel is setting the ingredients down and clearing his throat.

“You mean… the mountain?”

Dean nods. “Those things… those souls… they are soul, right?” There’s gotta be some pretty good explanation about it, after all. He’s heard of special locations, of places that turn out to have been part of some mythical soil, magical well, 

Castiel looks down the table again, uncertain for a moment. The angel may have gotten his grace back with the trench coat looking less ragged than usual, but at least he is alive. Cas doesn’t move from the side of the table though, he mulls over. He keeps his concerned blue eyes washing over the hunter Dean just had to give him a moment before Cas meets his eyes one more time.

“Mount Purgatory used to be a big part of Eden, Dean.”

Dean grimaces. “Yeah, I figured.”

“It used to be a sacred place, a part of Paradise.” 

“Until the apple got bitten?”

“Until the Fall, Paradise Lost if you will.” Castiel quietly abandons the table to sit with Dean, head hung low, eyes distant. “I still remember it… we were… the angels were actually expecting it.”

“Again,” Dean sighs, leaning mechanically to the angel for some warmth so their shoulders brush a little, “tell me something I don’t know. Look, I get the fall, I get Adam and Eve, even Cain… what I don’t understand is— you… you were there last time? You found it?”

“It found me.” Castiel slowly flickers his eyes lids, his features serene that Dean can only stare back, “I…it used to be a place where no evil creature could enter… but after the Fall, it was sent to Purgatory as the last gate connecting it to Heaven. You can presume that’s how Naomi located me. I was… lured there by the repentant souls, Dean. They knew I was doing penitence… they took me.”

“And what did they do to you?” Dean’s throat dries the way the angel heaves a sigh.

“They… they tortured me, not in a way you may think. I am an angel but Mount Purgatory isn’t for my kind, nor is it for any human so when I realized you were there, I acted accordingly. I… have slain my captors, I had to get to you, it didn’t matter that I was injured.”

“You were?” his eyes quickly roam down the trench coat, but it’s clean and untouched.

“Mount Purgatory used to be holy ground, it draws its power from Heaven but when it landed here in Purgatory, it got corrupted and only the gate at the top remains free of the evil that lurks beneath its foot,” Castiel explains patiently. “It draws grieving souls, guilty sinners to its core. Had they taken you deeper to its arms, you would have died, Dean. You would have been one of them.” 

A sudden halt. Cas abandons the world whenever he looks at Dean like that. And the hunter doesn’t have the strength to pull away when what they have are like poles pulling each other.

“What happened to you there?” Dean repeats, needing to know. Wanting to know because he cared. He cared that Cas looks at him with heavy eyes. He needs to insist.

“The dominant souls—the one drawing power from Even—the one ambushing other souls outside the gate, it got me. It tried to strap me off my grace.”

“You mean it nearly killed you?” the man growls in rage. To think that he could have lost Cas back then if Naomi did not interfere—?

Castiel looks at him gratefully, but the angel shakes his head next. “It doesn’t matter now. The grace they took from me, I realized, had to other places to go. It circulated this ether and once I stepped on the mountain, I was able to tap on the latent grace that was drawn from me, Dean. It gave me the strength to save you.”

“I was supposed to save you.” Dean reaches a hand to the angel who smiles at him and entwines their hands. The man’s heart swells as he rubs his thumb gently over the back of the angel’s hands. Too big hands. “I was dead sure they brought you there, Cas… I mean, I heard your voice…”

His voice trails away.

“It was a trick, Dean…” Cas assures him, leaning closer and planting another soft kiss on his forehead. Why is it always the forehead? “And you’re safe now.”

“It sounded… you.” Dean mutters halfheartedly, fixating his eyes on their hands. He was dead sure it was Cas. The sound, the volume, the _longing._ It’s Cas… Dean couldn’t explain how he knew it, but it’s him.

“Dean.”

“It was your voice—you were calling me.” Dean did not expect the tremor in his tone nor the tears. He’s fed up with the tears. He pulls his hands from the angel to wipe his sniveling when Cas snakes his arms behind the hunter and embraces him tight. “Cas—you were calling me like that after I abandoned you the first time—”

“You didn’t, Dean.” Castiel tucks his face on Dean’s warm cheeks. “You’re wonderful, Dean,” Cas says, pressing closer to Dean who holds his ground, this time reaching a hand behind Castiel’s lower back, sliding up the muscles above and squeezing his shoulders. “You’re perfect.”

“Cas, I suck at words...but... you know how important you are to me and I’m really the dumbass here, okay? You’re my best friend and you’re very important to me. Cas I…everything.” He chokes, “You’re my everything.”

“Of course, Dean.”

His heart swells when Cas’ just stays with him, with eyes flickering in understanding. There are many bad that will happen to them, but this one, what he will tell Castiel will never change anymore. He’s learned now. He’s learned a lot. and the humble tinge of blush appears on his cheek while he presses his lips tight, the same way he shows his obvious happiness over him and Dean’s reunion.

But Dean couldn’t stop himself when he pulls the angel into a tight hug, surprising Castiel maybe, but Dean wanted to make sure he didn’t lose the angel. He embraces him tight, runs his grabby hands behind the curve of his back and just takes a moment to _feel Cas._

“Dean,” Cas sighs on his shoulder, both hands still on his sides. “we… don’t have time.”

“You’re right, we don’t,” Dean grumbles, pulling away and wiping the corner of his eyes with a swipe from his thumb. He blankets his expression the way Cas seems to be doing it, though the flickering blues follow his every movement, “So I gotta tell you this again before Chuck finally decides to blow my head—”

Castiel visibly scowls. “I will not let that happen.”

Dean nods quietly, “So what do we do now? Sam and Eileen are waiting and we got the flower, so what’s next?”

Castiel sits still in mute reflection for a while, the crease on his eyebrows reflecting much of his hesitation.

“Well, we go get your brother and his girlfriend.”

* * *

They were not okay.

Going against Chuck isn’t as anticlimactic as any of the team free will expected. Chuck turned tails after securing the destruction of the weapon intended to seal him forever. It was natural that they were all tired in the aftermath.

It was different for Dean though. He saw things differently and with a much clearer purpose and if it had anything to do with Castiel being saved from a misfortunate fate of madness, he’d take this ending any time of the day.

“Are they going to be okay?” Castiel immediately asks behind Dean, placing their bags on the library table, with a look toward the Bunker door. Sam and Eileen hadn’t come in yet.

Dean turns to follow the angel’s line of sight thoughtfully. It had been a tough day for everyone.

“Someday,” Dean says, shifting on his feet. “You alright?”

Castiel throws him a quick glance, then he gives a little nod.

“I am. How about you?”

“I need a drink.” Dean smiles, gaze not wavering from the angel’s. “You comin’?”

Castiel nods at once and follows Dean quietly to the kitchen. They literally danced around each other a bit, Dean getting the whiskey while Cas helps him with the glass. But both felt that pull of not wanting to separate. A mutual feeling of comfort after a day’s work of nearly losing each other. It hung there in the kitchen with them, gravitating and strong. They finally settled on the table before they could make serious injuries the way space keeps disappearing between them.

After a while of satisfying eye contest, it’s Castiel who broke the comfortable silence with both hands clasped on the table. Dean contents himself with the angel’s presence which he could do the entire night.

“You seem awfully satisfied.”

Dean sips from his glass with no intention to contradict. Cas was right, he wasn’t feeling that melancholic among the three. He lowers his glass down and as if he hasn’t done it the entire day, looks Castiel deep in the eyes and in full attention.

He chose his words right. He’s been choosing them since Purgatory. The right words that matter so he gives a shrug.

“You’re here without the mark. Sam is safe and might be having lady-troubles, but that’s Sam for you. And she’s not you know… dead, I think that’s something. We’re all back home… you and I are okay. I think I’m a champ.” he flashes a tiny smile.

Castiel studies him for a second, his eyes crinkling to a small smile too.

“I understand. They are big wins. You and Sam are safe.”

Dean drinks again. “Things could have been worse, but they weren’t. I think I’m okay today.”

Cas is watching him. It can’t be the whiskey, he was just getting started. So there’s only one reason why he’d be feeling that heat in his lower regions. He’s sure as hell it got something to do with those bright blue watching him intently. Just watching.

“Sam?” he asks to distract himself. 

“They’ve entered the Bunker at least.” Cas sighs, pulling his elbows up and presses his palms on his face looking worried. “Even with Chuck gone, I don’t think it’s safe for them to stay outside yet. They’re still talking.”

“You won’t wanna eavesdrop like a doting mom to our Sammy now.” 

“You don’t have to tell me. And it’s not like I can help it. Sam and Eileen had a tough day. We all did. But I am mostly concerned about you.”

“Me?” Dean flickers his eyes up. “Dude, I’m not the one who offered to be a bottle to a genie. You nearly got a Jekyll running the ship, Cas. I didn’t do shit except assist you today. I’m fine.”

“Of course you’d say that.” Castiel just runs his eyes slowly all over Dean’s face, like he’s memorizing all the lines and features there, afraid he might forget. “And don’t make light of your ‘assistance’, you were very good today, Dean.”

“Very good?” Dean chuckles despite himself, “Cas, you kept saving my ass if I didn’t -”

“I think we are over with you trying to demean your value.” Cas drawls with a piercing look at the man, “Let’s just both agree you and I were very good today, Dean. And you’re the one who actually saved me.”

“Now We're not on the same page anymore. How exactly did I save you? All I did was whine and cry the entire day.” Dean cringes at the thought but did not feel too uncomfortable. Being honest with Cas, he thinks he can do that now. “That’s not what I call saving.”

“But you called me back,” Cas says solemnly. “You prayed to me, Dean. You were very honest and…” his voice trails away, but his eyes spoke volume of what he wishes to convey.

Dean wished Castiel didn’t have to end there. He wished he could be more honest with the pooling arousal at the pit of his stomach. Castiel is making him feel a lot of weird stuff after they got into the Bunker. then he realized, they were just his feelings now intensified by the fact that they were alright. No more fight. They were alright. Cas is okay.

He can be more honest with himself too when affection in those blue didn’t come short.

“Me too.” Dean says, not needing the words. He sees Castiel’s face turn a little shade of pink. Dean nods at his glass, unable to hold Cas’ gaze now. “Yep, me too.”

Castiel stays quiet, just watching Dean who bows his head down, mostly certain what he wants to do next, but also just enjoying the proximity and comfort. That’s when the disturbing thought of Sam’s narrative hits him in the gut.

He could have lost this comfort just an hour ago. Could have lost Cas in so many ways. 

“Dean.”

The hunter looks up to see the angel looking in concern at his cracking knuckles over the glass. Their eyes meet, those blues inquiring in silence.

“It’s just what Sam said… about how I… you and the Malik box...”

Castiel shakes his head, frowning “It didn’t happen, Dean. It was avoided so it should not become a present concern of ours. We change the course. Sam did as he saw fit. It was never gonna be a win-win situation for us either way but, I would never regret not letting you become the vessel again.” 

“It could have been a different ending if it was me,” Dean says seriously.

“No,” Cas says simply and with a final note, eyeing Dean gravely. “I will not risk you again. Not in that way. not with the Mark. Anything but the Mark.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“Well, it didn’t work out for you when you died, so no.”

“Okay, Cas. I get it, relax.”

But Castiel’s mood of grumpiness is a little catchy so Dean just stays silent, watching the angel carefully while he shifts on the chair to maybe find something to beat and put his little mood swing to. Cas is beautiful, Dean will be damned if he didn’t see that, but added with the impatient attitude given by his frown and high eyebrow, that’s just pure sex appeal.

And it’s getting a little warmer in the area. Dean looks away. “It’s a little hot here…”

“It’s the alcohol. That should be your last glass before going to bed.”

“I don’t want to go to bed, I don’t think I can ever sleep again without the nightmares.”

Castiel’s full attention is a treat and Dean can almost see his reflection on those dilating blues. “That is not sustainable. Do you want me to help you sleep?”

Dean did not just have a flash of Castiel on his bed without all the layers. Not to mention-- the wings. It’s bad, how he’s getting attuned on his frustration and how Cas seems indifferent to it. Or is he?

“What are you gonna do, knock me down? I don’t mind.”

“A finger will do,” Cas says seriously.

Dean spits the last amount of glass and chokes on his glass. He coughs a few times with the angel patting his back where soon the pain disappears. “You said that in purpose.” He accuses his angel who smiles at him. Okay, so maybe they are on the same page.

“I am suave pop-culture, you forget.”

“Yeah, tell me why the Meta-dude-who-killed-me included M/M, BDSM and SM in the list of things you gotta get knowledgeable about?” he stands up to get the bottle of alcohol and returns just in time to see the angel have come up with his answer. He settles beside him with the comfort of proximity cloaking their weary forms.

“His intentions were never pure from the beginning, God never made him any specific task other than write down his words,” Cas replies, then his face turns somber. “What are we gonna do about Chuck, Dean? If we’re out of sealing him away, what remains is the dangerous journey of fighting off his omniscient power.”

“We just gotta blind him is all.” Dean nods roughly, elbows up the table as he bows his head. “We’ll find another way.”

Silence falls between them and Dean knows Castiel just decided it’s time for his marathon of staring at the hunter. Unlike before where Dean gets flustered or uncomfortable because of the amount of attention Castiel is showering him is overwhelming

“Had enough?” Dean asks, smirking. 

Castiel pushes his tiny smile that just makes his handsome features glow. Dean loves that smile.

“Never.” The angel whispers, their bonding fully circulating and Dean presses his lips close. He couldn’t help staring at those plush lips, it's driving him insane. That moment the hot brush of his lips on the angel’s for a brief second... how could he forget that? But Castiel not mentioning it is both a little deterring and encouraging. For one, Cas may not like it, or two, Cas may be expecting more.

One thing is clear however, he’d want to kiss him again.

"Eileen’s leaving,” Cas tells Dean quietly and the hunter straightens his shoulders, his face openly hurt for his brother. The angel watches as Dean slowly heaves a heavy sigh and closes his eyes but does not say anything. He waits for Dean to say anything but he did not so instead, Cas follows the sound going on the corridor, before looking over at Dean who’s back to his drinking game, expression clouded and grim.

“Shouldn’t we be there?” Castiel asks purely in concern as he glances back at the doorway.

“It’s okay. They both made the decision to call it off.”

Castiel watches Dean. “You mean, separation?”

Dean nods. He can see Castiel is troubled by the idea.

“It’s gonna be fine, Cas. They will work this out on their own. When the time’s right.”

“When?” comes the acrid question. Dean shrugs. “Can’t he stop her?”

“You can’t always stop people from going, Cas. They’re not like you.” Dean’s hopeful look only receives a blink.

“I don’t know. Maybe when Eileen figured she can’t live without Sam or the other way around. If you ask me, I’d be kicking my brother after her if he doesn’t go on his own.” He smiles and takes a swig with the blue eyes intent on all his movements.

“You think Sam would let you?”

“It’s not a question. But Sam won’t. You know why?”

There’s no immediate response. The angel and the hunter exchange glances, the mutuality of their understanding over something so suggestive gives Dean the goosebumps. Cas just knows him a lot.

“Dean, Sam wouldn’t leave you…” Cas begins slowly but the sudden despairing chuckle that left Dean exposed, much to his chagrin. 

“Of course, he won’t, but you know sometimes I wished …” Dean finds it hard to explain, but once the gift of Castiel’s trusting eyes assures him it’s okay, he says, “sometimes I think Sam’s doing this because he’s punishing himself too, y’know? Like… since the apocalypse and me becoming a demon, it’s a generic response to someone so guilty. Sam’s guilty of leaving me in his life and I… I think I gave him that.”

Castiel stares at him hard. 

“You’re giving Sam too little credit.”

“Look, Cas. At least one of us brothers gotta have that happy ending. Chuck’s not gonna take that away from Sam.”

“What about you?” the weight of the angel rattles the hunter who shakes his head and drinks again he makes a hissing sound at the bitter taste, “I don’t need to raise the bar high on myself. As long as you and Sam are alive— I’m happy.”

“Don’t you think we would want the same for you?”

“Maybe. But I ain’t gonna expect too much.”

Castiel stares at him and Dean lowers his eyes. He knows that Cas gets it. Knows that in the end, one way or the other, Chuck will be stopped with one sacrifice. And Dean’s gonna be willing to do that, race for that, even trick his brother and best friend if he has to. No one’s gonna get that from him.

After a moment, Castiel’s head perks up.

"They are… they are saying goodbye, Dean.” He shoots the hunter a pleading look.

"Nothing we can do about that." Dean whispers, eyes flickering gingerly on the wall and sighing heavily, “This is… just our life.”

Castiel suddenly tenses. “She’s leaving.” When Dean doesn’t say anything, the angel leans to him, their wrist brushing, distracting the hunter at how close their hands are.

“Are we not going to do anything?”

“If you want Eileen to whip your ass on the floor, be my guess. Let her go, Cas. It’s Sam… something he gotta deal with on his own. I mean, we all had been through a lot of let go in our life… it hurts, supposed to. But… nothing we can do about it because not everyone is meant to stay.” 

Castiel blinks. “I will.”

“You must’ve gone blind.” Dean smiles while Castiel frowns more.

“There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight, Dean. I think you’re beautiful.”

“Even when I’m being stupid?” he smirks and it’s cute when Cas glares on his behalf.

“Even then.” Castiel’s eyes round. “Dean, I didn’t mean to offend you, but I was just worried you were planning to throw your life away, and you were being stubborn-”

“No, no, it’s good.” Dean waves the apology away, sensing the dreadful feeling slowly creeping on the angel’s anxious face, “It snapped me in attention with a reminder of knuckles on my cheek because stupidity gets more people killed, Cas _. ‘That kind of head don’t save lives, Dean, drill the damn thing in your brain if you find one.’_ Is what dad would say…and I guess, in a crisis like that, John Winchester will always be better than me.”

“That’s not—” Cas is about to raise hell, maybe.

Dean shakes his head. Though he disagrees with his father most of the time, he sees the reason why John was a master of his job. Because his father has embraced the art of being a real hunter while he, Dean still craves normalcy. Craves for a peaceful life. He doesn’t question his father labeling him ‘ _stupid’_ for wanting to have a normal life.

 _‘Stupid’_ for trying to run away from this hunter’s life.

 _‘Stupid’_ for even hoping to be someone else. 

“Do you really believe that?” Castiel asks with a relentless look over the hunter.

Dean is saved from answering when Sam’s footsteps draw near. Dean diverts his eyes to the door but before he could even properly turn, Castiel’s fingers hook on his chin and pull him back sharply so their heads are turned, their eyes locking.

And my how Cas just draws to his space so casually, enough to make Dean

“I’m not done with you yet.”

“Cas—”

“I’m going to make you see just how special you are, Dean,” Cas promises. He lets go of Dean and settles himself on an acceptable reach while Dean’s heart is left pounding under his chest. He breathes hard at the angel who bowed his head just as Sam enters the kitchen. The solemn atmosphere falls among the three, Dean feigning calm over the angel's words.

Does it mean...

Sam’s imploring look snaps him from the intense exchange and Dean is able to take control. He listens to his brother’s explanation, but it’s not important to him anymore. Dean doesn’t want to lose Cas anyway so it’s actually thanks to Sam that they didn’t proceed with the idea. Sam goes on to clarify he believes what Chuck showed him was of a future. Dean agrees and is reminded again of the mistake that nearly befell his angel.

* * *

Dean doesn’t let his nerves get the best of him when they decide to retire. Giving a moment to embrace Sam before letting his brother go, the hunter saunters back to his room with his mind wandering to the angel who slips out of the kitchen before him. He stops by his door, suddenly hyperaware of what could be waiting inside. He remembers Cas words well. Quietly, he opens the door and it's funny how disappointed he felt when he saw the bed empty.

Chastising himself with a shake of his head, he gets in and has just locked the door when large hands grabbed his shoulder and roughly tugs him back and slam his back on the wall.

Dean yelps. He tries to struggle from the angel who’s mouth runs hot on his skin. He only gets a handful of lapels from a trench coat. His eyes widen at the blazing blue before him.

“C-Cas?” But Cas doesn’t respond, instead, the angel pushes on his shoulder, his lips pressing deep on Dean’s own, kissing him roughly with lips moving in wild motion, goading and sweet. Like it's what he's wanted from the beginning. Like Dean isn't the only one in need to close this distance again. The heat of Cas' mouth works its way inside his jeans and Dean's also pulling.

Jesus, Cas can kiss. No wonder hell's people are after him, but Dean's not gonna let go of him this time, is he? The kissing when from wild to chaste, then smoldering once Cas decides breathing is unneeded. Dean catches his breath just in time when the angel pulls a little back. It's wild how those same eyes held demons and monsters alike at bay while for Dean, they're just captivating.

"Dean..." Cas leans closer again but Dean puts careful hands on the angel's chest and pushes him a little after a breathless exchange. A pang of hurt flickers on the angel but Dean is quick to assure him.

“No, I like it! I was just... are you sure you want this? Are you sure you want-"

“ _You.”_ comes the harsh response, his lips finding Dean’s again. Dean’s mind half explodes, the circuit in his tiny brain all turning on as the angel presses closer on his body, pulling on his waist, kissing him senseless. And if Dean nearly throws Cas on the bed despite the vast difference in power, he can blame all adrenaline rushing on his veins. Dean growls at the angel's prone position once they settled that Dean's on top, straddling Cas who looks up at him endearingly, his large hands dropping on Dean's hips.

Dean wants to ask, but all his questions disappear. Cas is looking at him, just looking while he rubs his palms on the hunter's hips. There's a connection there, there's a moment when they both know they want this, no questions asked. And Dean knows all he gotta do is to kiss Castiel again because those chapped lips are just begging to be taken. He eases down the angel, tugging on Cas' clothes and letting himself sink in the angel's warm and welcoming embrace.

* * *

Dean wakes up alone in the bed with chest tight. For a second he thinks it's all just a dream, that Cas wasn't saved, that the shadows won even though they did not visit his dream tonight, but then he sees Castiel's clothes grimly folded at the foot of the bed. He also notices the absence of his gray robe so it goes counting where the angel went.

Checking the time, he sees it's only past 5. What the hell was Cas thinking. But then... Dean shivers. He slips his legs on the floor and made for the bathroom. The dream was there, it wasn't bad, but it as there. In time, he decides to take a long-needed shower to cool down his shaking body and to erase the thought currently sinking deep in his mind.

_Of gnarling incisors, of fangs around his neck—the sound of growling monster getting loud and louder— his feet freezing—the clamping of teeth on his leg—_

Dean grits his teeth, eyes opening. He doesn't recall stopping, but he's standing there, under the running shower so no one could hear his quickening breathes— _Cas could be listening._

Dean is okay with the wolves. Dean is okay with the monsters... but one thing he clearly feels for at the moment was for Benny…

He doesn't know how but he's got a launch his friend's soul never left that place. That Benny was among them.

Dean’s lips quivered. He… he wasn’t even able to properly remember his friend. He shuts his eyes, leans his head on the cold wall and cries with all his heart. The nightmares would surely come but they never hurt him before… what would hurt him would be this… his loyal friend, the vampire who taught him how even creatures of the dark can be an ally. Can be good.

Fist closing, Dean stifles his cries, the emotions bursting out only coming in gasps. He didn’t know how long he’d stayed there, but he knows when strong hands wrapped around his waist embracing him from the back and pulled on him. Castiel leans his sharp jaw by Dean’s shoulder and presses a kiss on the side of his head.

Dean lets him, a ripple of sigh escaping his lips at the warm body covering his back.

“Are you okay? You’ve been gone from the bed for almost an hour…” Castiel kisses his shoulder with a tone laced in concern.

“M’fine…just…” Dean feels his face getting hotter. It feels ridiculous now. Castiel hums at the shower of kisses before he angel-handles the man and turns his body so they are facing each other. Castiel plants a sweet kiss on his lips, their chest pressing.

“You don’t look well—” Cas begins in silence nudging his nose on the hunter who chuckles.

“But I still look gorgeous.”

Castiel nods, not peeling his eyes nor hips from the man. “No one can contest that. For a human, you are perfect, Dean.” The sudden dimness on the hunter’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed and the angel pulled up, frowning. “What is it, Dean? Did I say anything to offend you?”

“I’m not perfect.” Dean says quietly. He runs his palms down to feel Castiel’s sturdy chest. He claws on his heart, thumbs circling Cas’ pink buds before settling both palms on the insane and well-shaped hipbones. 

“You are.” Castiel counters.

“No.”

“Why don’t you believe me when I’m the one who can clearly see it?” the angel challenges, taking a step closer, a knee slipping between the hunter’s legs. Dean sighs at the brush of cap on his groin.

“Because you’re in love with me.” He says, sliding both arms around Castiel’s underarms to hold him closer. He buries his face on Cas’ neck, breathing his scent and groaning when Cas runs his fingers on the curve of his back.

“I do.” 

Dean opens his eyes in surprise then pulls back to stare the angel in the face who smiles back, their eyes meeting again. “Do you doubt that too?”

“No.” Dean flushes but he smiles back. 

“Dean. Let’s go back on the bed. Your body is already very cold.”

Dean doesn’t argue with that. He let Cas lead him back to their room, let the angel wrap him in the towel and dry him up, shoulder to shoulder, rubbing in places that made Dean groan and want to lie down, let Cas do the job. But Cas must be on his autopilot mode because he doesn’t take a bite on the bait. He dries Dean in cloth of servitude, but the last straw was when he just sweeps the man off his feet and carries him bridal style to the bed.

“Wha—Cas!”

“Stop squirming.”

“Why—cause I’ll fall?”

“No, I won’t let you go.”

Dean protrudes his pouting lips, making Castiel standstill and eyes his lips in mesmerizes. Dean grins at once. “I thought my appeal doesn’t work anymore. I mean, you totally just raked my body with towel, ignoring all the sexy noises, I thought having me once is enough for you.”

“You mean I get done pimping you?”

Dean harks a laugh, earning him a squint. “Yeah, kinda like that. You know, you get a taste once, you get over it.”

“You mean I leave you after this?” The tension is palpable, at least for the angel who still carries him on his arms, unable to decide what to do best until Dean’s shoulders are shaking of laughter. Cas blinks at the man and lets him get over the sniggers before their eyes are meeting again.

“You can let go of me now, Cas.”

“I don’t want to.”

Dean grins. “Drop me on the bed, then. You don’t make a Winchester get used to good things, we tend to hunt for the comfort at once.”

“It’s alright. You can get used to me carrying you around, Dean. I love carrying you. You don’t weigh at all. In fact, I think you’ve gotten thinner.” Castiel says this as he manipulates Dean on the bed. He settles the hunter down, wraps him under the covers, then drops himself on top of the blanket. He pulls his elbows and props it so that he’s looking directly at the man who watches his movements with their faces leveled.

“I like the color of your cheeks. You seem a lot healthier now.”

Dean tracks the movements of the angel’s lips and nods. “You think you can sweet talk me? If I didn’t know better, you’ve been browsing on your Nicholas Sparks to come to woo me.”

“I’ve got all the time wooing because I’m not going anywhere anymore. And so are you.”

Silent stares. “You really gonna stay with me, Cas?”

“Of course, Dean. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than beside you. You know why?”

Dean shakes his head, his eyes dilating in anticipation. He didn’t know what makes Cas so attached to him to the point of making him return even after now. 

“You make me happy.”

Dean blinks. Castiel just stares at him longingly. 

“I… I do?”

Castiel nods. “I tried going away… tried to forget you… I couldn’t. The more I tried, the more things on earth reminded me of you. I already explained to you our bond…”

“I thought we didn’t bond anymore?” Dean says slyly. The frown on Castiel’s face is too adorable. 

“I got a very good angel taking care of me.”

Cas smiles with all his heart and Dean would be damned if he doesn’t take the opportunity. He kisses Cas’s lips again. Castiel only smiles when he pulls back. This isn’t one of those moments when they needed to touch desperately. This is one of those moments when they just find comfort in each other’s presence. In each other’s sense of affection.

Love the overflows in the room, Dean’s drowning again. But this time, he’s sure someone’s ready to pull him up, bring me back up to the light. Those blue eyes he wished would be happy in the end. So, he prays loud and clear. Castiel flickers his eyes on the hunter.

“Stay with me?” Dean asks. Castiel nods.

Dean blinks at him, sees Castiel beckons him closer and tackles the angel. He wraps his arms around Castiel’s legs, his head resting almost by the angel’s abdomen, where he sighs in exhaustion. Castiel startles for a moment, before his hands lay down on the hunter’s shoulder, caressing his back gently, soothingly.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

“You think if I reached the top of the mountain, they’d let me in?” it’s bugged him since they returned from Purgatory. Not the prayer, though Cas still likes him to repeat it again from time to time. No, it’s the legendary gate leading to heaven. He waits for the answer, until Castiel props a hand up on the side of his face, so he’s studying Dean closely.

“Let you in where?” 

“You know… heaven?”

“You’ve been to Heaven, Dean.”

“Yeah, but that’s been ages ago… you know what? I think there’s something about… you know…” Dean catches the angel’s searching eyes, “You know just… like, pass all the stairs going to heaven? No one likes it straight, you get my drift? I can sing you a song about how it’s not really about reaching the top, but the climb. Experience.”

Cas looks thoughtful for a second. “I wouldn’t know. I have my wings back now, see.”

“Level with me dude!” Dean grumbles and pinches the prominent nose. He notices the plush lips so he goes to kiss that too, pressing himself up so Cas falls on his back. Dean stays on top of the angel, nipping at the sharp jaws.

“So you think, if there were angels there, they’d accept me in heaven?” he whispers, lips ghosting Cas’ lips who stays still, enjoying the feel of the man pressing on top of him. 

“You would be the first one to be allowed then. That door never opens anymore, Dean.”

Dean freezes looking thunderstruck at the angel. 

“Okay… that’s a bummer. But those shadows, how do they get in heaven?”

Castiel gives him a steady gaze. “They don’t. They are eternally forsaken, Dean. The mountain is there only to…” he presses his lips when Dean begins sliding back at the bed. He follows the man in a sitting position soon.

“But they’re waiting.” Dean looks crestfallen at the angel.

“I’m sorry, Dean. But… salvation doesn’t come for those in Purgatory easily… there are other prophecies that can fulfill that, but going the way how we’ve been going against any prophecy, I think they have to wait a bit longer.”

The hunter falls silent. Castiel sighs and sits closer to him. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t.” Dean leans his forehead on Cas, drawing their bodies close until the angel finally pulls him down and wraps the blanket around both of them with Dean’s head resting on his chest. “I should be the one who’s sorry.”

“We can’t always apologize to each other all our life, Dean.”

“You’re right. But it’s never… it’s never a Winchester thing, y’know?”

“Sam apologizes.” Cas points out.

“He’s Sam.” 

Castiel smiles. “You apologized too. It was sweet, Dean. I’ve never heard your prayer so loud and clear and… when I sensed you were in danger, it’s different. I felt all my bones wanting to fly towards you. It’s not the same as before. It’s more intense… you sound so clear like I’m in you…”

“Ah, now you’re talking different prayer. That I like.” He turns his head a little to lick around the angel’s neck. Castiel tightens his grip on the man’s shoulder, looking a little surprised. 

“Dean…”

“What? Don’t like it?”

“I do not discourage it.”

“Yeah? How about this?” 

Castiel’s eyes flutter open while Dean chuckles beside him. The amount of prayer sent next gets the angel uncomfortable, the next beat he’s glaring at his friend.

“You’re teasing me.”

“I got as direct as I could, I don’t know if you can still call that teasing, Cas.”

“You’re not supposed to use prayers like that. And what’s that beach I see in your mind, Dean?”

Dean flushes, his eyes were wide. How the hell…

“It’s just a dream… beach side… y’know… but it’s evening there now and… hey, it’s a dream, yeah? Who’s gonna stop me?” Dean bites his bottom lip.

Castiel doesn’t answer but the way he snakes his hands-on Dean’s torso to push him back the bed then straddles the man once he’s successfully climbed on his lap changes the game completely.

“You know what you’re doing?” Dean asks more like a challenge when Castiel slowly dips down and kisses him full in the lips before pulling back up.

“You ready, Dean?”

“Wha—?”

Castiel’s eyes glow bright and in a second is spreading his wings wide with Dean’s eyes rounding.

“Cas—?”

“Let’s go.”

“W—”

A powerful flap and they’re gone to that Paradise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Thank you to Kweenratmother for giving this wonderful art! I so wanted to write about Purgatory, I have, but the challenge is in the creativity and I really hoped we delivered! Thanks to all the mods of DCRB2020 too! You're all awesome!  
> Give us some love lol!
> 
> kweenratmother Arts:  
> https://kweenratmother.tumblr.com/post/612528542887067648/ayyyy-folks-heres-my-half-of-the-deancas-reverse?fbclid=IwAR1T7VZVfM2SjAzg_ZL7NtpEXiu1Cf8AKv_7vF7K-I6DazC0sWZ0CxymOqg
> 
> catch us here at DCRB2020:  
> https://deancasreversebang.tumblr.com/
> 
> never mind me :D


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